Archer of Black
by Goat13
Summary: To be trapped in time is dangerous business. Is time a linear path or is it a convoluted vortex? A young Magus discovers just what it means to be a Hero. Will Emiya Shirou leave his mark in history or will he tear it up and walk his own path?
1. Chapter 1

_Archer of Black_

_Chapter 1: It begins_

**(Spoilers)**

**This story began as a "What If?" fic. What if Kiritsugu trained him properly? What if he had magi-heritage? What if he received proper education as a magus? A lot of these questions popped up as I watched and read about Fate/Stay Night. There was so much potential about these questions that I had to write a story about it.**

**Those of you who remember this story being up a few months ago might remember why I took it down. There were several complaints about it being way too similar to Third Fang's "From Fake Dreams". While most of them didn't have much weight behind them and even less reason, some of them did however point out a few things that made sense. After going through my notes for the first ten chapters I found it lacking in actual content. Hence the long period of rewriting everything. Hopefully it will show the readers the direction I'm taking the story in.**

**On another note I recommend reading "From Fake Dreams" by Third Fang. Once I started reading it I couldn't stop. The building of characters, the way Shirou is portrayed as powerful, but not the biggest fish in the sea and the weapon he uses… all of it is superb! I'm on my third re-read of it and I still can't get enough of it. I'm hoping the next chapter is released soon!**

**But let's get back to the story. I can say that the Shirou in this story will be different than the one in canon, not only powers, but in other aspects as well. His magic crest will play a role as will the choices he makes early on. I want to make him into a different version of Counter Guardian EMIYA and at the same time turn him into an arch-enemy of said Counter Guardian. He won't be a hero or an ignorant third rate wannabe magus. He'll be a force to be reckoned with, but that won't happen for several chapters in the future. There's going to be a lot of building of the character called Emiya Shirou.**

**The main focus of the story won't be the Holy Grail War. Depending on how I let the story fold out I might not even include it. So Enjoy…**

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><p>His body was tired. Despite his relatively young age he felt like his bones had exceeded their physical limits decades ago. His muscles felt like they had been used without rest for years and were finally beginning to show their tears and wears. His mind, once sharp, possessed probably less than a fifth of its former deadliness. His vision was cloudy and he had to focus more than he wanted to just to read the news each day.<p>

Was the curse from Angra Mainyu to blame or was it the monstrosity in his hands?

He focused his eyes once more. In his hands was a weapon capable of agony beyond human comprehension. It was a danger to any and all who near it, even its user if careless. He had seen it used time and time again, leaving victims in its wake. Tears of pain and sorrow usually followed soon after. Careers had been ruined, lives had been destroyed and traditions had been shamelessly broken as this abomination of a tool left its mark on the world. In a sense it was even worse than his Thompson Contender. At least he knew it was used for destroying lives. He doubted the owner of this piece of demonic equipment knew what she was doing to her unfortunate victims. How horrible the weapon in his hands was.

It was the terrifying Torashinai.

He had asked Fujimura Taiga, the granddaughter of his neighbor Fujimura Raiga, if he could borrow it to find out why it was cursed. He thought he would have to convince her or maybe even use hypnotism on her, but the moment he asked her she just gave it away with a smile. He was baffled. Normally owners of cursed objects tend to be possessive of said objects, but Taiga seemed happy to help him. Maybe the curse was only active in battle.

Despite the ease he had acquired it with it seemed his luck had run out. No matter what he did he couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was a phenomenon clearly out of his abilities and he was not in the best position to contact the magus association for assistance of any kind since the grail war and the Einzberns refused to talk to him even going so far as to activate the barriers around the property.

They wouldn't even let him see Illya, his own daughter.

"What are you doing with that, dad? I thought Fuji-nee took that _thing_ with her when she left…" Asked a voice from the door. It was Emiya Shirou, his son.

Shirou was the only person he had managed to save on that day 2 years ago. He had been so glad that he had found the small child amongst the flames and the dead that he hadn't wasted a second implanting Avalon inside the small and severely burnt child.

During the immediate aftermath of the grail war he had been filled with despair. He had searched for someone to save in that sea of flames and every second he spent in the searing heat made his goal seem less and less likely to succeed. When he had finally seen the boy collapsed on the ground covered in burns and blood he had almost lost his will to live. He had been the reason that this innocent boy had died, along with hundreds of others. When he saw the nameless youth's chest rise and fall as if he was breathing, he had rushed to his side.

In the few short moments it took for him to confirm that, yes the child was indeed alive and breathing, he was like a machine. He had not dared hope. If he had hope then it meant that he could lose it as well. When he had realized that he might be able to save just this one child, he was filled with a religious fever. Tears streamed down his face and a smile erupted from his otherwise grief-filled features.

`He's alive! He's alive!' he remembered chanting, as if nothing else mattered. To him though, nothing else was nearly as important as reaffirming himself that he had been able to save at least one person.

He had never been able to gather the courage to reveal anything about the war to Shirou though. He had sealed away that part of his life for two years and he would hopefully be able to keep it sealed until his death.

"Ah, this? I asked the girl if I could borrow it to `practice my swordsmanship with'. Though now that you are here, you think could give your structural grasp a shot? It should be good practice for you." And it would be good training for him. The apprentice had a good number of circuits in him for a first generation magus and they were high quality as well. If his children followed the same pattern then he would need only a few generations to catch up to the magi at the Clock Tower in terms of a magic crest. Even less depending on whom he married…

He threw the aforementioned weapon of mass horror to the young boy and watched as he fumbled with the shinai. It wasn't that heavy, but the child's small size made it a little too big for him to use. Or maybe it was the curse making him a little clumsy?

He watched as Shirou muttered his aria ("Trace on") and looked at the cursed object. Normally when you look at a cursed object you would feel a small discomfort, like a small headache, but that was only if you possessed enough skill to go that far. For a child without any training to see enough to feel hurt would be impossible.

That's why he was surprised when he saw the magus-in-training wince in pain.

"Shirou? Are you hurt? How much did you see?" He asked in a worried tone.

"Uh, I haven't started yet. It just hurts when I create a circuit." The child responded.

Create a circuit? What was he talking about? Normally you activate your circuits and then focus on the object. There is no part where you create new circuits. If you tried to do that then…

…Shit

"Shirou, tell me. How do you normally use your magecraft?" If this was as bad as he expected then it was good that he just started training learning magecraft. If he had continued with this method then he might end up crippled or worse, dead.

"Well, first I imagine a new circuit and I imagine flooding it with magic and then it feels like burning pipe is shoved in my back. It used to hurt a lot when I started, but now it just hurts." Shirou said, not knowing the true meaning of what he just said.

Kiritsugu wanted to kick himself. How could he have missed so obvious? He already knew that Shirou's sense of pain and discomfort was warped. The kid's first memory is walking through a field of death and flames. There's no way he could have recovered from that without any consequences. To him the pain of converting one's nerves to magic circuits wouldn't even compare as important.

Still he needed to set things straight and do a damage control. He might look fine, but nerve damage could manifest later on. The earlier he knows to what extent the damage has spread the sooner he can try and find some kind of treatment for it.

"Listen Shirou, when you use Magecraft you don't create magic circuits. You use those you already have. What you're doing is basically cannibalizing your nerves and turning them into makeshift circuits. That's only possible once or twice before you have to see a doctor." He said, trying to instill a sense of urgency in the youth.

It worked to a certain extent.

"Cannibalizing? What does that mean?" the child asked.

Kiritsugu sighed. He forgot he was dealing with an eight year old.

"That's not important right now, but you need to know that what you're doing is dangerous. It looks like I'm going have to go through the basics with you."

Motioning for the boy to come to him, they both sat on the floor. The sliding screens were open and the cool autumn wind made their breaths turn into mist.

"Shirou, Magecraft is powered by out prana. Prana comes in two forms; Mana, which is the world's own supply, and Od, which is our own energy supply. We activate our circuits once in order to use them later in life. There is no safe way to create circuits and the way you were doing wouldn't actually create circuits since you just substitute your nerves for them." He explained to his apprentice. He really should have done this when he started teaching him.

"A magus walks with death. That's the sad truth. There are so many ways to be killed when you are a magus that your entire life can be summed up in that sentence. Your experiments may go out of control, your mystery may fail, you may overclock your magic circuits and gives yourself a stroke or a jealous magus might kill you for your research. If I had taken teaching you seriously this would have been made clear to you already, but you know what they say. It's better late than never."

"So what's going to happen to me now? Am I going to die?" For the first time in the conversation Shirou's voice gained a slight hint of fear. No wonder though, he had heard that he had been doing something extraordinarily dangerous. Any kid would be crying with fear at this point.

"No, you're not. I'm just going to use a little magic and see how much damage you've got so far and we'll see what happens." He said as he put a hand on Shirou's shoulder and applied some prana.

Avalon was resting inside him, the noble phantasm still in its pure gold and blue. His original circuits were there, still in good shape and high-quality and his nerves were all there, mostly. It seemed as if a few of them had changed into… real magic circuits?

That wasn't possible. It was inconceivable that his nerves had actually become real, functional (although low quality) magic circuits. No wait. They were still functional as nerves, but magic circuits had appeared inside them. And they weren't his circuits either. They felt as if they had no connection to his alignment or origin. But that would mean…

He had a root-damned magic crest!

Now he knew why he hadn't noticed it before. In the fire 2 years ago he had sustained damage to his circuits and for a long time had had trouble using them. It was like they were hidden by a veil which made his circuits slow and sluggish. Even now he couldn't use them to the same degree as he was once capable of. He couldn't make it past the Einzberns barrier because of this. Now that he thought about it, Shirou must have acquired the same problem, only his magic crest and circuits had been completely hidden and when he tried to use them crest was forced to manifest them inside his nerves.

"Magic crest? Shirou, this may be a stupid question, but do you think your parents were magi?"

The boy's eyes flashed open and he stared at him. "N-no, I don't think so. I don't remember anything so they might have been, but I don't know." He said. He suddenly started smiling and asked him with a hopeful look in his eyes. "Is there a chance they were? Could we find out?"

Kiritsugu didn't know what to do. Could it be possible that his adopted son was the heir to a family of magi? It might be possible. He had more than average amount of circuits and a crest, but he didn't think that any magus not connected to the grail war would stay in Fuyuki city with their heir during the war. It went against common sense. Any magus in Fuyuki City would be a possible target as nobody would want to take chances. And if you didn't have a servant to protect yourself odds were you would be killed. So why…?

The only choice was to inspect the crest in hopes of finding what sort of magus the previous owners were.

"There's a chance that it's possible, but I wouldn't jump to any conclusions." There was more than a chance. It was more than likely. "Shirou, when I used structural grasp I saw a magic crest. I didn't see how many circuits you have, but you forced a few of them to manifest as your own instead of staying in the crest. This is very important! Don't ever tell anyone about this!" he told Shirou.

He looked taken back at this. Kiritsugu was normally laid back, but now he looked serious, more so than he had ever seen him.

"What, why? Did I do something wrong? I won't use my nerve-thingies ever again-OW!" he answered back. In his rush he had fallen over his kimono and face-planted on the floor.

Kiritsugu lost most of the seriousness his face had a moment ago and had gained a smile. The cartoonish way he fell over drained the room of it former tension. "It's not that you did something wrong, but you did something no other person had ever managed before. I haven't explained it to you yet, but there's an organization out there called the Mage's Association. They focus on research and magical science. If they found out what you did, even if it didn't do that much for the average magus, they will hunt you down and experiment on you."

The look on Shirou's face told him what was going through the boy's mind. "Yeah, most of them aren't very nice."

He continued. "Anyway, before we make any speculations I will need to inspect your crest. Are you ready?" He asked as he once more put his hand on Shirou's shoulder.

What he found inside the crest was quite impressive in terms of amount of circuits: fifteen magic circuits were still inside the crest. Combine that with the ones Shirou extracted as his own and the total amount of circuits he received from his biological family were twenty-three. As a result he possessed fifty magic circuits.

Despite the seemingly impossibility, it wasn't the most surprising thing he had found. There were two other mysteries left.

Shirou's Origin and Alignment had been shifted to Sword. He knew for a fact that when he first met Shirou neither had been sword. He hadn't bothered to check the origin, but he knew Shirou's alignment not been sword. As a magus skilled in inspection and investigation, Kiritsugu had been sure of what he had found out that day. Shirou's alignment had been Fire, an element Kiritsugu also possessed. When he had found him the boy had a single element. Even if he had missed the Sword, he knew he had found Fire. He knew he couldn't have missed Shirou having an element except the one he shared with himself.

And yet now he had Sword for alignment instead of Fire. Was that possible? Kiritsugu had Dual Origins, but that was supposedly rare. He knew several people had dual alignments and he had met an Average One once, but to shift from an elemental alignment to an alignment out of the ordinary? And not doing it on purpose and not feeling any pain at the same time? No, there must have been an underlying reason for it.

He sighed. This was getting a little too much for him.

And finally his origin… if Shirou wouldn't be getting a sealing designation for manifesting magic circuits then he would surely receive a one-way ticket to Clock Tower for that. Sword was unheard as an element from what he knew, but to have it as his Origin too? It was rare, even rarer than an Average One. If Shirou intended to become a magus he would need to be able to deal with the pressure of keeping everything a secret and protect himself.

Well, his plans of letting Shirou live an ordinary life looked impossible now. Since there were magi in this town who lost their heirs there would most likely search for them in hopes of locating their workshops and research. If Shirou was found and carried the name Emiya then it was more than likely they would kill him on sight.

No, maybe torture him for information first and then use him as a research subject. Not that that was any better.

It looked like he had to take Shirou's Magecraft education a little more seriously. He would also have to brush up on his basics.

Even he had to admit he had forgotten half of the Beginner's Guide to All Things Magecraft.

**AOB**

It was Saturday and it was time for Shirou's lessons on Magecraft. They were inside Kiritsugu's workshop, the old shed with stone walls that Irisviel had used when recovering from the strain from being the Lesser Grail's vessel.

"So every person has an Origin and Alignment and the Origin define a major trait in a person. The alignment is usually an element or elements but that just most cases, not a rule? Some people are also born with dual origins?" Shirou summed up the lecture. They had been going over the basics, something Shirou had been severely lacking in.

He had already told Shirou his Origin and Element and that he wasn't allowed to tell anyone since they were unusual and Clock Tower would slap a seal designation on him before he could blink.

"That's right, but just because you don't have an affinity for a spell doesn't mean you can't use it. There are several ways to effectively use a spell you aren't suited for; for example, the use of magic crests. When a person has achieved a spell and he adds a circuit to the crest he may choose to add the spell for it. This way makes it possible to inherit a sorcery trait and other elements to a lesser degree. Since your inherited circuits from magi with of all four elements you will be able to use them far better than if you didn't. Of course this does not mean you will be able to use it with the same degree of skill as the predecessor, it just gives you a slight ability. If all you needed to manipulate the elements was to inherit a magic crest then The Magus Association wouldn't treasure Average Ones so much. Remember; an Average One will always be able to manipulate elements better than you and a magus with a fire alignment will always be able to manipulate fire better than you." He paused and considered what to say. "Other ways are to store the spell in a medium and then release it in battle, but that leaves you with limited space for reserves. This method is preferred when you practice Formalcraft and Alchemy since using an active spell could disrupt the delicate calculations you'll be making at the same time. " He explained.

"Runes are a good alternative for those who are not capable of standard Magecraft. Runes originated from Scandinavian scripts and tablets and each hold a meaning and effect, but skilled practitioners can combine several runes into arrays capable of far more than their individual effects. Ansuz for example is used for flames and Sowilo is for fire. Using them alone creates fire and using for example two Ansuz creates a larger fire, but combining Ansuz with Sowilo creates a more intense flame which spreads a larger area. Adding a rune for wind would increase the effect, but fire is normally a violent element so you probably wouldn't want to let it go too out of control unless you're using scorched earth-tactics."

Contrary to popular belief, Kiritsugu was a capable teacher when he wanted to. Note the emphasis on the` when he wanted to'. When he first started teaching Shirou he didn't actually want him to learn Magecraft. He simply wanted him to get bored and give up and live a normal life. It's safe to say that didn't happen.

When he had been teaching Irisviel how to drive she had been so happy at driving her new car that he hadn't had the heart to tell her she had been awful. He didn't want to risk breaking her heart after the fiasco with the tea ceremony. That was something he had not wanted to repeat.

So when he finally decided to take his training seriously he found that he was actually quite the competent teacher. Maybe that's why Taiga kept coming over in order to learn english? Was he really that good?

"The Origins are also capable of being used. As you know my Origins are `To sever' and `To bind'. By using my bones as my bullets I can use them in order destroy my opponent's magic circuits. If you experiment then maybe you could find a way to combine your alignment and origin." He saw the wince escape from Shirou's mouth when he mentioned his ribs being turned into bullets. "Yeah, it hurts. A lot. But almost nothing in the world of Magecraft can stand up against it. But speaking of Origins and alignments, how are you doing in your new club?"

That had been one of the first steps after finding out that Shirou had sword as origin and element. If he was a sword then he should learn how to use one. When Taiga had heard about Shirou wanting to join a kendo or fencing club she had volunteered to introduce him to her club.

It sounded like a good plan at first only he didn't realize taiga would be practicing there as well. When she emerged in her training clothes and armour he suddenly realized he had given her Torashinai back just the other day. And now he would pay for his blunder.

After having several bruises treated and the coach gave her a proper scolding for going all-out on a junior member, he decided to join and learn how to use a real sword. Nevertheless, many of the members who had expected him to drop out and never return stared at him like he was mad.

"It's going great! I finally learned how to enter a match using the correct stance without falling over from the weight of the armour!" the youth replied with joy evident on his face. Apparently just making it to the start of the spar was a challenge to the small child. Not a bad achievement for such a short amount of time though, especially considering that the armour was made for people several years older than him.

Kiritsugu laughed. "Well isn't that great! Maybe in a few decades you might be able to land a strike on Taiga." He teased, though Taiga was famous for her skill and temperament. He wouldn't be surprised if it took Shirou that long to land a hit on her, if he was raised by a normal person that is. "But since we have had the lecture already, why don't you show me what you can do with Gradation Air."

He put a hammer on the table and sat back. "Try to project this as precise as possible."

One of the problems when it came to teaching Shirou Magecraft was his limited talent. His Origins and Alignment made it harder for him to use Magecraft in general. The Magic Crest he possessed allowed him to learn other spells, but not enough to excel in any branch of Magecraft except Projection.

He had after days of research found out where Shirou's `sword' affinity came from.

Avalon.

Since he had embedded Avalon in a child, the powerful Noble Phantasm had exerted its influence over the significantly smaller existence. Changing his origins and alignment had probably not been all. It might even have removed his magic rest if he hadn't found it time.

By making Shirou practice with small time spells using the crest, his connection to it would stabilize. The same would be said about his Sword-affinity. By practicing swordsmanship, even with wooden swords, he would be able to draw on the power of Sword.

That still left Shirou with a very limited repertoire of spells. One of the few he would be able to cast without problem was Gradation Air, or Projection. It was a good beginner's spell with little harm of overclocking his circuits as amateurs tended to do. Shirou was exceptionally proficient in the use of Structural Grasp despite his age and limited training.

Due to his limitations Shirou had apparently taken a habit of helping Raiga with his motorcycle. The old thing was an antique and almost nobody knew how to fix it anymore due to the development of the technology used in motorcycles. In fact, Kiritsugu wouldn't be surprised if the thing was primitive enough for some of the more conservative magi in Clock Tower to consider it a worthy piece of equipment.

So after Shirou's use of Structural Grasp, he knew exactly what the problem was after a little application of the otherwise considered useless magic. Replacing broken parts with new ones was a bit too advanced for him at the moment, but old man Raiga still insisted on paying him for it. Though to be honest, Raiga was probably saving more than Shirou was earning. If he wanted a professional to fix the bike, then he would have to send it to a specialist who would charge ten times more than what he paid Shirou. So it was a win-win situation.

"Okidoki, watch this!" He exclaimed in confident voice. He took a pose with his legs spread and hands to one side, like a superhero from some cartoon. "Trace on!"

Nothing happened.

"It looks like projection is still a bit too much for you. Which ones were you using? Your own circuits or your crest?" he asked.

Despite the fact that Shirou was skilled at structural Grasp and was capable of projecting knives and small swords, he was still a child and he would be surprised if he had managed to project anything other than a bladed weapon in a long time. Normally a child wouldn't be able to project anything with just a few weeks of practice. Despite the fact that Shirou started learning quite late for a magus, his projection was quite good actually when it came to blades. He had asked Shirou to project a kitchen knife, which he succeeded in doing, and he found out that there was little difference between the real thing and copy, an extraordinary feat for someone so young. Though there seemed to be little else he could project at this point, he was sure he would be able to use projection for more advanced weaponry. Maybe a bow would be a good substitute for a sniper rifle? The bow used arrows which had a bladed arrowhead and could be considered a blade. Maybe he could add a bladed edge on a gun and call it a sword?

"My crest, but even when I use my own circuits it's hard to project something that's not a sword or knife. Projecting swords is like walking, but projecting anything else is like running uphill." He said as his shoulders fell.

"Don't worry about it; you just need to practice a bit more. However remember…" he was interrupted by Shirou.

"…Never, ever use more prana than you circuits can handle and never, ever tell anyone what you are and who your father is. I know, dad. But why don't we ever meet any magicians normally? You're the only magus I know, but you said there are entire groups of them. Why can't we go to them for help?" asked the adopted Emiya.

"I told you a little of what I did before I found you, right? Well, all of it was true, but when I told you that I was a little disliked I might have tweaked the truth a little. I'm hated in some very powerful places and if I were to reveal you to them then people would target you in order to get revenge against me. Understand?"

Shirou nodded, but continued. "So why can't we just hide you? I don't look like you and I don't have your crest so people wouldn't think I'm related to you unless I they meet you. Can I go?" the child asked, childish curiosity and hope evident on his face.

Kiritsugu chuckled, something he found he did rather often after he started teaching Shirou. The boy's sense for heroism and adventure was reminding him of himself before his father…

"No Shirou, it's too dangerous. You're just a child and it would be suspicious if you went to Clock Tower alone without a guardian. I'm not sending you into a pit filled with hungry snakes like that."

The boy's face fell and it was clear he was disappointed.

Still it was a valid tactic and in a few years it might work. An eight year old would look to out of place, but a twelve or thirteen year old might be able to pass of as an eager magus-in-training or heir to a declining family. The second one would actually be true in two cases. The Emiya family was disgraced after Kiritsugu's father had started his research on dead apostles and Shirou's original family was most likely dead or had lost a large part of their crest if alive. A family of magi depended largely on the crest to show their pedigree and age. Another reason he wasn't liked in the Magus Association. He had done a fair deal of damage to a large number of nobles.

Now that he thought about it, letting Shirou go to a magical institute was the best option. Even though Kiritsugu was a good teacher, he was a specialized magus and he didn't have the material to teach Shirou enough about Magecraft beyond the foundation and Formalcraft. And since they had already stumbled upon the problem of his limitations and add the fact that he had an unidentified magic crest then he would have to get some real instruction soon. Since he already had a magic crest which wasn't the Emiya's tragic excuse he wouldn't have as much suspicion on him even if he might reveal his name. Almost nobody in the association knew much about Asia. Telling people it was a common name wouldn't be too much of a lie.

There was no avoiding it. He still had a few contacts in Atlas and Sea of Estray. Might as well start there…

He had been lazy up until now, but the Magus killer was back. And he had a son to teach.

**AOB**

Atlas Academy was one of the three branches of The Magus Association. It was known as the Giant's Pit for some reason as well, but Kiritsugu had no idea why. Kiritsugu normally didn't come here very often. His profession kept him traveling so that meant a lot of his time was spent simply getting to his destination. That was one of the reasons he didn't come here very often.

The other was that it was unbearably hot.

Atlas was located in Egypt. Kiritsugu had completed several missions in in and around the country, but he never liked the place. The cities were too chaotic and every damn time he had found a target he almost always lost it again. This could work both ways of course. If someone is following him he could lose the offender fairly easy, but for a man of Kiritsugu's talent getting rid of pursuers was child's play.

Add the fact that as a Japanese person he stood out more than usual just made it harder for him to blend into the chaos of the street since people would notice him and being noticed defeated the purpose. So being in the cities of Egypt was a big no-no for a man in his line of work.

But he wasn't in the city or the suburbs right now. He was in the mountains, being mercilessly attacked by the sun attacking him with its unforgiving beams.

"This is for the time I blew up the temple dedicated to that Ra, isn't it?" he asked as he gazed up on the sun, slightly off angle so he didn't blind himself. That would be a bad idea. Going into potential danger while blinded would not be his best plan ever made.

Though it wouldn't be his worst idea either….

Some of you might be wondering why he was going to Atlas Academy. It was quite simple. After he killed the head of the Archibald family, the Clock Tower had been up in arms. The Archibald family was one of the older families and had a lot of political power. Kayneth himself was considered to be a prodigy and would have taken the family to greater heights if he had been allowed to. Kiritsugu killing Kayneth destroyed those dreams and set the family back generations. Going there would be suicide even for him in his prime. Trying to get materials in his current condition was too idiotic to be even considered an option.

As such he had to go to one of the other branches. Atlas was the best option so far. He still had contacts in it and they were considered outcasts by the other branches due to its contact with the Holy Church.

Of course Kiritsugu knew he would not be able to make contact with his contacts in the usual way. It had been years since he had spoken and they would be wary to talk to the Magus Killer after his recent retirement. To think they would just fork over books about magecraft was just dreaming for the impossible. No, at best he would have to make due with merely buying the books and letting Shirou learn from self-study under his supervision. Maybe create a false identity and let him attend a few seminars while in disguise. He might be able to make him a regular student this way as long as he didn't attend Clock Tower and covered his tracks before he went home. Then when he's older he'll be able to follow Kiritsugu on a hunt for sealing designates. The ones who were young and stupid were easy targets so Shirou would be able to learn without being in any danger. When he's old enough he might even be able to go hunting for apostles like he and Maiya did…

Seeing the temple ruins up ahead, he abandoned his line of thought and rejoiced at the sight. His contact, the only one who did not fear him, had told him where to enter the academy, but hadn't told him how hot it would be. He had drained his water bottles hours ago and was running empty at this point. Hopefully he'll be able to get some rest before he continued with his business.

The entrance to the academy was in the form of a ruined temple. Not very original, but it served its purpose of concealing the entrance. The ruins had a bounded field around it that made it hard for people to approach and the temple was built to guide the leylines and as such was able to reinforce the effect. Only those who specifically searched for the entrance to Atlas would find it. Even some magi would have trouble finding it.

"Well, I'll be damned. I didn't think you'd actually come here." He heard a voice from the top of the ruins.

The speaker was a woman. Her complexion showed Nordic heritage and her blonde hair supported this theory. She had pale skin (indicating she spent a large amount of time indoors considering the tan he had developed in just a few hours in the sun) and it reminded him of Irisviel and her blonde hair was the same shade as gold. Her eyes were ice-blue and gave her an image of being a cool beauty. She wore the uniform of an Atlas official, a white shirt mostly covered by a red blazer and a crimson skirt which covered her legs to mid-thigh. Though he was pretty sure she had her clothes tailored to suit her, instead of relying on the mass-produced line of clothing the academy provided. She had a pair of reading glasses over the bridge of her nose, a new addition since the last time he had seen her. In her hand was a cane with a ruby on top of the handle, made of some kind of wood which was black in colour, but he was willing to bet his calico that it was painted black to cover the runes etched into it. She was deadly with a sword and rarely went without one. The reason he was wary of the cane was because he couldn't see her sword which meant if it came down to it she would most likely use her cane to beat him senseless. Though hopefully it didn't come to that, he was hoping one the chance that she would be willing to talk.

She was one of the few people he trusted in atlas and one of the few people who had been able to call Maiya friend. She was the one of governors of The Giant's Pit. Her name…

…Was Lili Silverström

She was also the one who he needed to talk to in order for him to find a teacher for Shirou.

Switching over to English he responded: "Circumstances may have forced me to go into hiding for a time, but when I make a commitment I will stand by it." Magus Killer he may be, but he at least would be true to his word.

"Nevertheless, you coming here can't be good news. You made some pretty big waves when you killed the head of the Archibald family _and_ destroyed their Magic Crest. We may be a separate branch and hate eachother, but that does not mean I can simply overlook your presence without reason. Though if you _do_ give me a good reason then I might consider letting you go. So I'm going to ask you directly." She paused and looked him in the eye. "Why are you here, Kiritsugu?" her voice adopted a harsh tone towards the end and even he had to admit she made a fearful figure.

"I'm here to purchase some research material and documents." He stated rather bluntly. Flattery or half-truths wouldn't work here. Lili was angry and trying to distract her from his real purpose would only make it worse.

…and he had seen what happened when it got worse.

To her credit, she did not display too much shock. She had probably seen hundreds of fools desire the same things, but she wouldn't have expected him to say that.

"You know our policy, Emiya." She was using his last name. That's a bad sign. "Nothing that is created inside Atlas leaves Atlas. Remember the saying: Unless you desire the world destroyed seven times over, never lift the seal of Atlas. Why should I make an exception for you?" Well, she wasn't blasting him off the mountain. That's a start.

"First of all: the last time I checked you still owe me a favour from the time in Iraq. Second of all: Only finished creations and mysteries must stay inside Atlas. Basic research material and beginner's sets can still be purchased from the Academy, something that is quite common since a majority of the world's alchemy studies originate from Atlas. And third of all: You're on of the few people willing to make deals with me after the grail war." He finished lamely. It was true after the Holy Grail War several of his contacts had cut contact with him in order to shield themselves from the wrath of the Archibald and Einzbern family. He had been fine with that since he had no intention of involving himself in the world of magi, but that had changed when he started teaching Shirou. Now he needed contacts and supplies, but none of his former partners would help him.

Lili on the other hand was confused, a feeling she did not like. Kiritsugu was acting very un-Kiritsugu-ish. The wannabe-mercenary would normally not care about acquiring basic materials since he could get some from the black market. They would not be the best, but Kiritsugu could always work with that. He wouldn't come directly to the institute known for its alchemy for a simple job. And beginner's sets? Why would he need that? He wasn't an alchemist, despite the fact that his time with the Einzbern family had been long enough to pick up a little bit of knowledge.

The only conclusion was…

"Did you take on an apprentice?" She wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Kiritsugu had been famous for his work in catching or terminating sealing designates and Dead Apostles. Having a second Magus Killer would lessen the amount of sealing designates running around exposing thaumaturgy to the world and Dead Apostles destroying towns.

On the other hand, he was one of the most hated of magi. His very presence was enough to leave the room in fear of his famous circuit-destroying mystic code. If the apprentice inherited his code then he would be similarly feared.

"Not quite. If you'd let me in I would be able to explain it all." He wasn't quite comfortable with revealing Shirou's existence to the world yet. The ruins might look deserted, but it was meant to look like that. There was no guarantee that they weren't being watched.

Lili was on the other hand not convinced it seemed. He had known she was stubborn, how she not be? She was a governor of Atlas, The Giant's Pit. She would have to fight daily with other people who would like nothing more than to shove a dagger in her back. The years turned her into an iron wall it seemed and his suspicions were confirmed as she spoke. "You're not entering the academy until you've given me some answers. Be grateful I'm giving you the chance to explain yourself."

He sighed. It looked like this was a battle he was meant to lose. "Yes, I've decided to teach what I know to someone and you could consider that person my apprentice, but it's not just my apprentice. He's my son."

The silence which followed his statement was long and eerie. Lili who had been so adamant about knowing what his purpose was had been struck speechless. To think, the iron wall had been turned into a gaping little girl for a moment. She was staring at him with wide eyes and judging by the lack of rising and falling of her chest was any indication, she had forgotten to breath.

After a while she seemed to regain some of her functions back. Now her face was flushed and she was pointing at him with an accusing look in her eyes.

"You have a son? When did this happen? Why didn't Iri say anything to me? Or maybe it wasn't hers? Was it Maiya's? You irritating little… Aargghh! First you snatch Iri away from me and now you had a child with Maiya! Jag borde lämna in dig till Klocktornet bara för det, din lilla jävel!" (1) Her dramatically childish outburst was clashing with her previous façade so much he almost lost his mask. He had almost forgotten Lili had a thing for Irisviel. To think her rage would make her resort to swearing in her native tongue.

He had always assumed it was a passing thing for her. She did propose to her the first time she met the homunculus, but it was more of a moment of passion. At the time Irisviel had been an emotionless shell, barely capable of functioning properly. Lili had apparently always had a thing for those kinds of women. The ones who you knew weren't normal. To think she actually possessed feeling for Maiya as well. Well, Maiya had been very cold emotionally to everyone, but him. It wouldn't surprise him if Lili fell for her the moment she gave her the cold shoulder.

It made him wonder if Lorelei Barthomelloi, the queen of Clock Tower had similar tastes. Though for his sanity it would be better not to follow that line of thought. It was bad enough him trying to understand Lili's amorous nature. If he tried to add the vice-director of Clock Tower he might go insane.

Though it looked like Lili didn't know about both Iri and Maiya dying in the war. Or she most likely had a clue, but didn't confirm it yet. If that was the case he would probably be in for a rough time. He was never good at giving people bad news. He was most often the cause of the new in the first place.

He let out a sigh. "Lili, can we talk somewhere private now? I have a lot to tell you so can we just get this over with?" he asked has he started walking towards her.

She froze in her rant, holding her golden-blond hair in a way that made her slightly less terrifying and more comically insane instead. A normal person would find it cute, but he was not a normal person nor was he in the best of moods.

Lili took this as an opportunity to straighten her clothes and hair in an effort to look more respectable again. She did have an image to uphold and if you lost face as a governor it was nigh impossible to regain the same status. There was no shortage of people who wanted her position.

"All right, you've given me reason enough to grant you entry, but keep your face hidden. I don't want to give the goats in the board of Governors any reason to give me insults and harboring the Magus Killer would be a reason to do that." she informed him as she waved for him to use his hood to cover his face.

He chuckled while responding: "Considering you're the most perverted goat of them all you don't really need me for that." The only answer he received was a glare.

She walked to the entrance, an average mountain wall with no special features. He wondered how they were able to tell where it was. The mountain gave no clue as where the entrance was, but he had a feeling it was surprisingly simple. He had used that method to trick countless sealing designates in the past as the majority of magi were researchers. They tended to overthink things and overlook the simple stuff, the stuff a magus without access to fancy mysteries and research would be able to find with a little effort.

She tapped the mountain wall with her cane, the gemstone lighting up in red light every time the cane came in contact with the grey stone of the mountain. On the fourth tap, the mountain shook. Two large slabs of stone, each a half moon in form moved to the side. The result was a large hole which symbolized the entrance to The Giant's pit. Though he couldn't see very far he knew the tunnel created was quite long if the cold wind blowing his hair in every direction was any indication.

"Let's start walking. I don't fancy having this conversation in a cave when my office has a chair with my name on it." And so they started walking.

"So what did you mean with making you son your apprentice? When was he born?" Lili asked him as she sat down in front of her desk. She had pulled out a bottle of Irish whiskey and had poured them each a glass. After that she gave him one and took a sip from her own glass.

After tasting the alcoholic beverage and testing it from poisons, he began his story.

"You know that I participated in the Holy Grail war as a representative of the Einzberns, right? Just before it started I had summoned Saber, who was actually Arthur Pendragon. The Einzberns had made every effort to ensure a strong servant was summoned, even going so far as to locate Avalon to be used as a catalyst, but that's not all they did for the war. I told you they are responsible for creating the vessel for the grail." She nodded. "When I first met Iri she had been made into the vessel of the lesser grail." A gasp was heard from Lili which was later followed by a growl. "I know you're angry we didn't tell you, but Iri didn't want to make you worry. She told me herself that I was not allowed to tell you." That seemed to be enough for her to calm down so he took another sip and continued.

"When the war started I found out one of the masters was a priest called Kotomine Kirei, the son of the supervisor. It felt odd that he would be a master and at the same time his teacher would be another master, Tohsaka Tokiomi. He was also the first one to lose his servant in what appeared to be an act of betrayal by attacking his teacher. As soon as that happened he sought protection from the church." He paused and considered what he would say next. "I couldn't understand him so I was afraid of confronting him. He was an anomaly, an existence I had no idea could have a wish. If anything I thought the wish he had chosen as a master for had been to find something to wish for."

"But because of the actions of Caster we had to abandon the war and focus on exterminating the rogue servant. Eventually we had defeated Caster and later the same night Lancer. Shortly after that rider defeated assassin, who I think had the ability to create multiple bodies. By this time I knew the church was playing favorites so I had decided to assassinate the remaining masters, but Kotomine had kidnapped Iri and used her to awaken the grail. I only arrived afterwards to find Maiya dying from the wounds she sustained protecting Iri."

"In the end, I fought against Kotomine while Saber fought against Archer, Kotomine's servant. When I fought Kotomine the grail overflowed and we were trapped in a black mud. It turns out that the grail had been tainted and had become a monkey's paw. It couldn't grant wishes in any other way than destruction. When I freed myself from the mud I find out that Kotomine actually wanted it to take form and I understood he was just my polar opposite actually. I killed him and ordered saber to destroy the grail. The backlash caused an enormous fire that destroyed a big part of the city."

"I tried saving as many people as I could, but in the end I was only able to save one. A boy who didn't remember anything other than his name, Shirou. So I adopted him when he had recovered enough to leave the hospital. He had been bugging me for two years before I actually started teaching him Magecraft though, so I only taught him for a few months now." He straightened his posture and emptied his glass.

"That's why I need the books and material for teaching him. I didn't notice it at first, but he had a magic crest and he was born with above average amount of circuits and a magic crest. He's also specialized to the point that I can't teach him my kind of magecraft, but will be able to learn Formalcraft just fine. It'd be just a waste to just let him go down my path. He's smart for his age, but he needs more than just my lessons. I can only teach how to fight, something he will no doubt need in the future, but he also needs something beyond that. He needs something to ground him. All I need you to do is to get me a few books, help cover his identity if he comes here and get him into a few courses. I can't let anyone know he's related to me. They'll kill him to get revenge."

He looked into Lili's eyes and pleaded. "Will you help me?" he asked.

Lili could have been mistaken for a statue. She was completely still; even the whiskey in her hand wasn't showing any disturbances. Her ice-cold eyes pierced Kiritsugu's and he had to repress the shivers that went down his spine.

"I might be able to help you, but why should I cover for you teaching your apprentice. What could he contribute to Atlas?" There it was! She had taken the bait and now all he needed to do was to reel her in.

"Aside from the fact that his Origin and Element is both sword and discovered a way to manifest circuits in his nerves from his crest without crippling them, you mean? His cooking is to die for." Kiritsugu's look of begging had disappeared was replaced with a playful demeanor. "I personally prefer his eastern dishes, but if you ask him I'm sure he'll cook something western for you."

Lili's yes had widened enough for him to know she was hooked and she was gripping the thick glass with enough strength to create thin cracks like a spiderweb spreading from her hand to the glass. In the end, she filled the glass with whiskey and then chugged it all down at once. Then she turned to Kiritsugu.

"All right, where do you want to start?"

OMAKE- What happened when Lili met Sakura-

"So why doesn't Sakura want to make food for you anymore? Asked Shirou. He had been shocked when he found out that Sakura didn't want to go near his house anymore. She waited for him near the school and walked with him after school, but when she saw his house she went in the opposite direction.

How odd. Sakura had never shown any signs of knowing who Kiritsugu was. So why would she avoid him?

"I have an idea, but don't let Lili know I said it." At Shirou's nod he explained. "Lili has always had a thing for women with emotionless expression. Why I don't know, but the last two people she liked were both… involved with me so to speak. I think Lili is waiting at our house and waiting for Sakura so that she doesn't lose her latest crush for another Emiya."

"You think she's afraid sakura is going to fall in love with you? Dad, I don't like to judge people, but don't you think that's a little arrogant? Sakura is like a third your age." Shirou gave his dad a disappointed look.

Kiritsugu for his part didn't laugh nor cry. He just thought it was quite sad and humorous that Shirou didn't recognize the girl's interest in him.

But wait… Lili was just a few years younger than him and she was after Sakura. Maybe letting her act like an adult was a bad idea?

-Later That Night-

"Let me go, you imbeciles! I have to protect my lovely flower from the poisonous Emiya." Lili screamed as she was led away by a group of policemen.

"Yes yes, we need to come with us to the station now , ma'am." Said one of the officers as he put her in a car. He thought about the call they had received earlier.

"_There's a woman stalking a small child in Fuyuki City. She's a foreigner with blonde hair and the girl she's stalking is Matou Sakura."_

He sighed as he started the car and drove away, the screams of the stalker escalating in response to the sound of the engine.

"EMIYA!"

Here we are! The first chapter of Magus Killer: The Archer Of Black!

Though I still feel I'm letting a few loose ends be so I'll dispel some of those ends now.

**Translations:**

"Jag borde lämna in dig till Klocktornet bara för det, din lilla jävel!" (Swedish)

"I should give you to The Clock Tower just for that, you little bastard!" (English)

All I know about atlas is that they focus on alchemy and Sion was the vice-director. I don't know if Atlas ever made a real appearance or if it was only referenced. Anyway they won't be making any big appearances in the future. I just needed an excuse for him to have access to research pertaining Magecraft. Those of you who recognize Lilli can guess where she is from. Stay tuned for more "Archer of Black."


	2. Chapter 2

_Archer of Black_

_Chapter 2: Heroes or monsters_

**I'd like to establish a few issues in timeline. So far they have been small issues, but I'd still like to sort them out before I get into the story too far. Fate/Stay Night takes place in 2004 and at that point Shirou is 16-17 years old. For convenience sake let us assume that he is 17 years old at that point. Ten years earlier he lost his memories in the Fuyuki fire. Two years after that he starts learning Magecraft. 3 years after that Kiritsugu dies from the curses from Angra Mainyu. 5 years after that the next grail war takes place.**

**So here's the timeline so far in canon:**

**1994, January Fifth**** (Fate/Zero). Fuyuki Fire occurred on January Fifth, the date that later became his birthday.** **Shirou is 6 years old.**

**1995, December Eleventh**** (Kiritsugu starts teaching Shirou Magecraft.) Shirou is 7 years old.**

**1996, January Fifth**** (a few weeks after Kiritsugu starts to teach him Magecraft, he realizes his mistake and starts to really teach him) Shirou is 8 years old.**

**1999 ****(Kiritsugu dies in canon) Shirou is 11 years old.**

**2004**** (The fifth Holy Grail War) Shirou is 16 years old.**

**He is currently 8 years old since he had his birthday on the day he was found by Kiritsugu and has been practicing for half a year. (I decided on having his birthday as the day he was found since it was the day **_**Emiya **_**Shirou was born and it was the same day as the fuyuki fire, which I can't seem to find any dates for. So I decided to pull an Asspull and say it is January fifth.).**

**That's what I'm basing TMK: AOB on. If you'd like to correct it, please leave a review or PM me.**

_(Spoilers)_

_I've read a lot of stories by Gabriel Blessing and found the way he wrote the Author Notes and Spoilers in the beginning is ideal to write a fanfic. As such in the future, all AN and Spoilers will be shown in the beginning of the chapter. Thank you, Gabriel Blessing!_

_In this chapter we have the start of Archer. Shirou has just started taking his first steps into his ideal of a hero and we are shown how he does it. I'm not going to lie to you, he's going to be one hell of an Anti-hero despite his hero-worship. He starts making connections with yakuza and he starts developing his fighting style, but there will be several hidden features as well._

_Good luck!_

_Oh, but to those of you who read the Omake: what did you think? Too dark? Too evil? Perfect in how two of the most evil and annoying characters in the series got their just "desserts"? Personally I thought Sakura deserved her revenge after all she's been through. But the drama between her, Shirou and Lili would be awesome if I incorporated it into the story wouldn't it? Lili thinks Shirou will take Sakura, while Sakura thinks Lili will take Shirou. I'm thinking of having another girl as well in there, just for the lulz! Leave a review and tell me what you think._

_(End of Spoilers)_

* * *

><p><strong>AOB<strong>

_April 1, 1996_

The gun was on the table, its black sheen giving the viewer a deadly glare as if asking him: `You think you've got the guts to use me? What's wrong, punk?! You gonna pick me up o' what?!' Contrary to what he might have thought when he first heard of the new subject he was going to be learning, he was now filled with dread.

Earlier that day Kiritsugu and Shirou were standing in the yard and Shirou was inspecting the younger Emiya's swordsmanship. He had an ability to instantly know where was the best place to grip the sword and the best place to guard and attack. It might have had something to do with his origin since so far it only worked with swords. They had tried to do the same with spears and though he had shown more knowledge about it than the average novice, it was nowhere near the same intuition as when he held a sword. It seemed his affinity applied for all bladed weapons, but was best suited for swords in the end.

While his talent for swords was impressive, he still had to work on his technique though. His speed and strength were sub-par and he had no idea on a proper stance aside from the one taught in kendo. This wouldn't be a problem if he relied only on a Japanese bokken, but a wooden sword wouldn't do on the battlefield. As such they had practiced with several kinds of blades, ranging from a Japanese katana to the Scottish claymore to the gladius, rapier, falchion and Viking sword. Each sword required a different formand technique, making Shirou rely on a varied stance.

When they were done Kiritsugu had commented on Shirou's reluctance to attack his opponent's openings. Shirou's response had been less than what he had hoped for.

"If I do that, then you might get hurt."

While his concern was appreciated, it was nonetheless frustrating.

Kiritsugu had then told Shirou that in order to survive on a fight against magi; you would have to use every single advantage to the maximum. Every opportunity must be utilized. A magus from a noble family might follow rules of honorable combat, but the enforcers and executioners most certainly wouldn't. If anyone find out about Shirou, both might come at him at the same time. Under those circumstances, holding back because of chivalry would get you killed.

Normally Shirou would say chivalry is important, but he also knew his father had experienced battle almost his entire life and knew far more about the subject than he did. So he listened to his father/teacher.

"The most important tools I had at my disposal were not mysteries, but modern firearms. That's why most considered me to be a heretic. You see, a gun can't store prana very well. Even if you tried the effect would be almost nonexistent. This has mostly to do with the materials and design. A pistol has many small parts made of metal. Most metals are capable of storing prana; many famous swords are made from enchanted steel or engraved with runes afterwards to make them enchanted. But most swords and lances are single large pieces of metal. A gun is made from many small, complex parts. So in order to make a gun function as a mystic code, every part would have to be engraved with runes or altered with alchemy. Even then the amount of prana the gun can store would be minimal since the bullets could detonate inside the weapon if the excess prana made contact and ineracted with them." He paused and took a swig from the coffee he had in his hands.

After quenching his thirst, he continued. "So most of my weapons were not enchanted, except for some of my larger tools like my sniper rifle or assault rifle since they were made of pieces of steel large enough to hold an acceptable amount of Prana. Even then I wasn't able to do any major things to them. I carved runes into them so the rounds wouldn't get blown off course or the incendiary rounds wouldn't detonate before they hit the target." He stood up and walked across the yard. When he reached the shed which functioned as his workshop he opened it.

He and Shirou walked inside and Kiritsugu showed him a box. It was two meters in length and a meter in width. It was almost as high as Shirou so he didn't see everything inside it, but he saw what his father took out.

It was a gun, black with a slightly worn out barrel. It was too big for Shirou's hands, but it seemed to fit perfectly in the older man's hands.

"Shirou, I want you to use structural grasp on this gun and tell me what you find out." He put the gun on the table and walked over to the couch on the other side of the room, a grim expression was the only thing he showed to his son.

Shirou did as he was told and used his Magecraft on the deadly weapon.

"Trace on." He said, his magic circuits flaring up in response. "It is a Beretta 92SB. It was made in 1980 in Italy. It uses 9x19 Parabellum caliber rounds and it can hold fifteen rounds in a clip inserted in the grip. It has been assembled and disassembled over two-hundred times. The first time it was used was in 1983 when Emiya Kiritsugu used to shoot Emiya Norikata. Since then it has shot more than 800 hundred times…" He trailed off as he understood what he had just said. He looked at his father, the man he had just, without meaning to, accused of committing patricide.

His father saw his expression of shock and nodded, confirming his son's accusations. He held up his hand to stop the other when it looked like he was going to ask a question. He motioned to the worn-out sofa to his left, telling the child to sit before he continued.

"My father was a magus. In fact he was talented to the point that the Association put a sealing designation on him, despite the fact that our family was just four generations old. When he found out he was going to be sealed inside the Clock Tower for the rest of his life, he ran. He took my mother and they ran from the association. Somewhere along the line, I was born." He looked out the window, as if not sure where to continue. After a while he continued.

"From what my father told me, my mother was killed just moments after in an attempt to get to him. It didn't work and Norikata took me away from there and raised me on the road. When I was twelve, we settled on an island called Alimango Island and we lived there for about a year. I had a crush on a girl a few years older than me called Shirley. She was kind of like Taiga, only without a cursed weapon and with tanned skin." A shallow smile appeared on his father's lips. "She was also my father's assistant. From what he told me, Shirley had even more talent than I had and might even had a future in Clock Tower if she was allowed to follow the path of a magus."

He sighed and Shirou could see a slight tremble in his father's frame. "Life was great. I could play with my friends all day and then I could spend time Shirley and father. But then… then Shirley let her curiosity get the best of her. She drank one of my father's experimental concoctions in order to find out what it did, but she had no idea of what my father had been researching." He stopped, as the pain of reliving the events became too much for him. Tears were now visible in Kiritsugu's eyes and his lip was trembling. His shoulders were shaking and he covered his face with his hands, as if not seeing anything would make it go away. Even though Shirou couldn't see his face, he could hear his father, the strongest superman of all, start sobbing from all the repressed emotions.

"He was researching ways to become a dead apostle." He said after the long pause was over. "He said that it was impossible to find root with a mortal body and that he needed the longevity of a vampire. He couldn't afford to wait hundreds of years to regain his mind from the zombie-state they enter. He wanted to skip that phase altogether. So when Shirley drank the potion she was turned into a vampire and she infected the entire island. Soon after that the enforcers and executioners arrived. They started burning the town and killing the undead and they would have surely killed me too if I hadn't been saved by a woman called Natalia. She was a freelancer who would hunt down sealing designates and sell their magic crest. When she found out what happened and that there was a barrier around our house she allowed me to go and stop my father." A bitter smile appeared on his face. "Did you know that he hadn't even gone out to look for me? He only thought about his research and how Shirley had shown him the answer. He was going to bolt the second he could. He thought I was going to just listen to him after he had been responsible for killing the entire island. I… I didn't know what I was supposed to do when I found him, I hadn't thought that far, but I had expected him to say it was a lie. That he hadn't been responsible for the outbreak and that someone had framed him, but when he admitted it I lost it. I stabbed him with a knife and when he was bleeding out I shot him with a gun he kept in his study. The same gun that is on the table." He said as he stared at it. The expression that Kiritsugu showed that day was one Shirou would never forget. It was the look of someone who had been betrayed by the ones he loved and could never go back to who he was before. Like an irreversible change had occurred in him, breaking him…. Distorting him. It was the same look he had the first days after the fire.

Maybe they were more like each other than both were willing to admit.

"The reason I'm telling you this is because I want you to remember that as long as there are people alive, there will be those who might betray you. Chivalry relies on the principle of everyone trusting in eachother to uphold their honour. But those who don't care about honour will always win since they can cheat, lie, kill and betray all they want. The gun you just saw is proof of that. The association betrayed fathe… Norikata who in turn betrayed Alimango Island. I just used that gun to betray my father in order to end the chain of betrayal, but that doesn't mean I am not guilty of the sin of treachery." It was just pouring out from him, every word felt like the ocean that had been on his shoulders disappeared and he could breath. He would have continued to tell his son about his actions if he hadn't been hugged by the aforementioned son.

"It's okay, dad. It's not your fault. You did what you had to do and I don't blame. But I won't be betrayed nor will I betray anyone. You don't have to worry about me." He said. He said all those things a nine year old shouldn't say, but he said it with such a smile that Kiritsugu couldn't help but to believe him.

The strangest thing of all: he wanted to believe him.

"Thanks. I needed to get that of my chest for a while." He sniffed. "Where did you hear those words though? I've never heard of child talk like that, not even the heirs of nobles would be able to talk like that at your age." He asked his adopted son. Thinking about it, it did sound a little creepy.

"I heard the rangers say it last Sunday, when they fought The Evil Chimera-lord Girugamesshu." He answered back with honest-to-root smile on his face, as if the fact that it came from a show meant for kids didn't change the value of the statement.

Kiritsugu's face went through several stages. First shock, then wonder and finally joy as he let out a loud laugh. His laughter was enough to echo in the building and the crows, who had taken the roof as their nest, took flight in order to get away from the possible predator that they considered Kiritsugu.

Shirou looked at his father in puzzlement, not understanding enough to realize why his father was laughing. To him, the words of heroes like his father and the Rangers of Justice (Shirou thought it was a fantastic name) might as well be as basic to understand as basic rights. It was LAW. He tilted his head to the side, an action he often did when not knowing what happened, in confusion. That along with the look in his eyes gave Kiritsugu the impression of a puppy.

The thought gave another fit of laughter.

**AOB**

After that Kiritsugu had told him to keep the gun. He wouldn't be able to use it since his very existence clashed with it, but it was still an advanced piece of equipment. Understanding the mechanics behind it would enable him to understand advanced physics better… or something along those lines. Shirou had not understood what Kiritsugu had said, but he figured using structural analysis would help him in the long run. As a result, he was sitting and was using structural grasp on it, letting the Magecraft analyze it to its fundamentals. From the metal used in its construction to the gunpowder in the in the Parabellum rounds, all of it was being downloaded. He was seeing the very essence of it and its history.

He saw how his father had been given the gun in order to practice maintenance and marksmanship. He saw his father disassemble it time and time and time again, only to assemble it time and time and time again. It was a tiring effort, trying to learn the blueprints of it. When it came to swords all he had to do was look at it and he would learn it without effort. But when it came to guns it was different.

Guns and Swords were incompatible for the most part. It was only under a short period of time that they existed together before humans discarded the bladed weapon in favour of the ranged. Swords were made for close-range combat, when the enemy was less than two meters from you. They were honourable, glorious and proud. Most sword masters followed the way of knights or kings. Very few wielders of swords were known to be cowards.

Guns, on the other hand, were made for long-range and had little honour attached to their names. It was a supreme murdering tool and was capable of more destruction than any tool a singular person could wield. They were not like an archer with a bow and arrow. Archers could still follow a code of honour and several could be knighted. It took years of training to learn how to wield a bow properly, while a gun only took a fraction of that time. No, guns were not like swords or bows.

And yet in Shirou's mind he was slowly accepting this pistol as more than a simple tool of death. It carried more than simple thirst for blood. This gun had been used for justice when it killed Emiya Norikata. It had been used for peace when it killed the sealing designates threatening innocent lives. It had been used for protection when killing dead apostles who had been terrorizing innocent towns for pleasure. It had been used for killing, but it had been used for saving even more.

Yes, Shirou could definitely see this as a worthy weapon for a hero.

He reached for the firearm, almost flinching when he felt the cold metal touch his skin. He held it in his right hand and used his left hand to slide the clip out. He put the clip down and started to pick the gun apart, like his father did before him. For every part, he separated he saw how his father showed his ideals, how he followed the Path of the Magus Killer.

He might never be able to wield it, but he was still capable of respecting its history.

It was indeed a worthy weapon.

**AOB**

_May 3, 1996 Fuyuki City_

The sun was bathing Fuyuki city in its scorching rays. The large sphere of gas in the sky was unhindered by bad weather as there was not a single cloud in sight no matter where you looked. In every direction the sky was as blue as blue could be. In fact it was the warmest day in over twenty years, a fact Shirou was horrified to find out. Why would he be horrified to know it was a hot day? Most people would like this kind of weather. Sunlight provided vitamin D which made people active and gave them a more active personality during the time the sun was up.

Most people, on the other hand, didn't have to deal with Fujimura Taiga.

Emiya Shirou and Fujimura Taiga were in the dojo practicing swordsmanship, just like Shirou and Kiritsugu had been doing almost every day for the last three months. He had progressed to the point of being able to last five minutes in an open spar against Taiga if they removed the armour. His reflexes and speed along with his affinity for Sword were good enough for him to fight on even ground with the more experienced fighter. Of course this only applied in an open spar. The armour used in real kendo spars was too heavy for him to use without being turned into a big bruise called Shirou.

Thanks to the intense training with Taiga however, his sword-projection had gotten better. In fact his skill took leaps if she used the Torashinai. Though he didn't want her to use it if he wasn't wearing the armour.

_Block, push, stab, defend, counter, slash._

His strength didn't have the same effect like someone who weighed more than twice his weight, but he was able to make her take a step back. This allowed him to extend his shinai in a straight path towards her gut, but the older fighter parried the blow while using her momentum to deliver a fast strike towards his chest. He was just barely able to retract his sword in time to guide Taiga's shinai away from his body and then strike her chest with an upward strike, which failed, and then bring his shinai down again. It was blocked once again and the older girl's shinai descended down onto his shoulder.

A whistle blew, signifying the end of the spar. They both looked the side to Kiritsugu who had blown the whistle.

"Match over. Winner: Taiga!" He declared. He wore his grey yukata unlike the two combatants. In his left hand was a paper fan which he was using to cool himself with, a logical solution given the temperature.

Shirou stumbled into the wind from the fan, panting and sweating. The shirt and shorts he was wearing were drenched in sweat, proof of the amount of time they had spent in the sun. The moment he reached the cool shade under the roof he collapsed in a heap. His muscles were aching; the results of having to endure a training regimen no nine year old should go through. His limbs were trembling to the point that even his toes were twitching. He was so relieved to be in the shade that he was actively rubbing his cheek against the cold, polished wood floor and then seeking a new cold place after his current spot had been warmed by the temperature of his body.

If Kiritsugu didn't feel sorry for the boy he would have laughed at the sight of the boy slowly crawling across the floor with an almost delirious expression.

Actually he did laugh a little.

Taiga on the other hand, looked like she had just a walk at a brisk pace. Her forehead was starting to show signs of sweat, but it wasn't dripping down her face like on Shirou. She had gained a tan from being in the sun and she had her hair in a shirt ponytail. She almost looked exactly like Shirley did twenty years ago, before the vampirification. She had a grinning from ear to ear, as if she hadn't been hit with a shinai. She walked over to the wall while humming a tune Kiritsugu was sure he had heard before.

"What's got you such a good mood? It's not often you come over here to spar." He asked the female kendoka. "You usually practice with your teammates."

"Well, I was going to practice in the club, but when they heard how hot it was they decided to make it an early holiday. And it's such nice weather today so you just want to do something with your friends. So I thought, as a good senior, I should make sure Shirou practices, instead of lying around like he always does." She said sweetly. Both of them ignored the groan coming from the floor next to them.

Looking back at the boy he answered: "You sure that it's not because you get hyperactive when the sun is out?" Poor boy, he and Shirou had just finished their own training, which involved sparring and exercising, so the kid was probably not going to be of much use any time soon.

"What are you talking about, Kiritsugu-san? Everyone gets like this on sunny days. It's common knowledge. Besides it's not like he's hurt or anything. We both used foam covers on our shinais."

Indeed, over the wooden shinai was a large piece of blue foam covering the `blade' of the practice sword. They wouldn't use real bokken in a duel between unarmoured opponents, but this made sure that even if the hit there wouldn't be broken bones or concussions. It would still bruise and make you wince if hit though.

"Yes, but as he is now, he won't be able to make food, you know." He pointed out with a bit of teasing in his voice.

That certainly got her attention. She ran over to Shirou and started shaking him. Cries of `Shirou! Shirou, are you okay?' filled the air. It was at times like this that he was able to remind himself that Taiga was _not_ Shirley. Shirley had been fun, yes but not hyperactive. Shirley was more mellowed, not as prone to comical outbursts. It was a good contrast.

One that brought back memories of her death.

"Taiga, maybe he'll feel better if you'll get him some water. He's been sweating a lot so he'll be thirsty enough to drink straight from the river if you don't hurry. Then we'll have a Shirou with indigestion who can't cook at all." She took his advice with enthusiasm. She ran to the kitchen, knocking over a dresser in the process.

"She wouldn't be so glad to use this place as practice if you didn't spoil her so much." Said Shirou from his place at the floor. He was looking at his father with a slight glare.

"She would still come over here to get rid of her excess energy on sunny day, no matter what I say. You know what she's like when the sun is out, she turns into a juggernaut even berserker would hesitate to face." He joked. He was almost sure she was part alien. The superman comics said kryptonians derived their strength from the sun. Could Taiga be a descendant of Type Krypton?

"Berserker doesn't have to fight her for hours in the sun so he can't complain. Why am I always the one to spar with her? You're the Magus Killer, right? You should be able to take a few bruises instead of me next time." Shirou grumbled. He had apparently recovered enough to sit up by now, as he was slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. Whether this was the result from the countless hours he had spent training or from the noble phantasm inside of him Kiritsugu couldn't tell, but he knew that it would have been impossible for an ordinary human to bounce back so quickly for an ordinary human. It would have required inhuman conditioning, something the training under a magus killer included.

"I'm retired remember? I don't have the energy to keep up with you youngsters. My role is to tell you to train and then pit you against a superior opponent you're not supposed to win against. If you lose then I tell you to train harder, if you win then I tell you I knew you could do it even if I didn't." he gave his apprentice/son a smile filled with mischief. "Speaking of which…" He coughed and started speaking in a voice you'd hear an old man use. "You need more training, Grasshopper." He said. "But now that you can hold your ground against the normal Taiga, I think it's time for you to try your hand against Taiga with Torashinai." He laughed at the youth's face filled with despair.

"No, you can't! I'm having a hard time against normal Taiga without Magecraft. How am I supposed to handle Toraiga?!" The reply came, this time using the second nickname the boy had for his senior. Toraiga; the personality which came out when Taiga wielded Torashinai.

"Don't worry; I won't make you do that. Not when I still need you to be able to continue with our project." He answered with apologetic smile. Really he had not been able to tease someone like this since he had Illya. Shirou was not like his elder sister at all, but they tended to respond the same way to his teasing.

"You mean, I can finally learn how to use mystic codes?" Shirou asked hopefully.

"Only when you show me you can use your swords good enough. It wouldn't do if you finished it only to not know how use it." He told him, his smile fading away as he settled into his teaching persona.

"But dad, please can I start leaning know! I promise I won't end like last time." He assured his dad, trying not to think about the previous incident when he had tried to project a sword beyond his limits.

"Only when you know how to use them. I'm not budging on this. You still can't beat Taiga with a shinai, what do you think is going to happen when you use a mystic code with abilities you have never used? First thing to using a code is being able to wield the item without Magecraft. " He said.

Shirou looked irritated at being reminded if his loss. "That's not my fault, you know." He grumbled. "Fuji-nee is faster and stronger than me. How am I supposed to beat her?" he asked.

Kiritsugu sighed. "You know, that not actually true." At his son's flabbergasted look he continued. "If we're talking strength then you're both equally strong. Taiga only has the advantage of size and weight, but you're physically just as strong as she is. And when it comes to speed, I would say you're actually a tiny bit faster. Despite this, why do you think you lost?"

Shirou started to answer, but nothing came out. He thought, but when he realized he didn't know he looked to his father. "I don't know, why?"

"There are two reasons. The first is skill. Taiga is better at using a sword because she is accustomed to it. Unlike you, she doesn't use more energy than she has to and makes no unnecessary movements. She is simply more used to handling a sword. You on the other hand, are quicker, but you put all your energy in your strikes and when you miss or get blocked that energy is wasted. So she will outlast you by nine times out of ten." He explained.

"The second is experience. When you attack you make it obvious where you will strike. You have a `tell' so to speak. This can be the bending of knees, twisting of hips or simply looking at the place you'll strike. Taiga has enough experience to see trough you attack and counter it. You in particular possess many openings. I have made you lose many of them without you knowing during our spars since it's easier to lose something you don't know you have. The tells you still have are your shuffling of your left leg to forward and that fact that you like to attack your opponents left side. These are very basic tells, but they are very hard to get rid of." He stopped when he thought of something. "By the way, when you shuffle your left leg forward, Taiga tends to strike your shoulders." He added before Taiga returned with a water bottle.

"Okay, here's the water. Shirou, you still have enough energy to cook, right? Right?" she asked in a pleading voice. She almost had tears in her eyes. No, she _did_ have tears in her eyes.

"Of course I do, Fuji-nee. If I didn't, who would make dinner? Need I remind you of what happened last time you or dad cooked? The fire department had to show up because the neighbors thought the yakuza had burned our house down." He didn't need to say that Taiga was technically part of yakuza and she had caused a fire when she left the oatmeal to boil for too long. They had to replace a large part of the kitchen that day.

"Yeah you're right. Haha, I knew you wouldn't get beaten by something so little." She laughed. She let out a small sigh of relief when she realized she wouldn't lose a chance to eat another one of Shirou's meals.

"Something little? We've been practicing for hours now! How come you never bother anyone else in the club this much?" Shirou asked, a frown appearing on his sweat covered face.

"None of them have a dojo in their homes and none of them can cook for me after a workout?" the elder child answered weakly.

Shirou sighed, knowing it was a uphill struggle to make sense of what Taiga said. He drank a few mouthfuls of water before looking back at the center of the dojo.

_`Taiga tends to strike your shoulders' _that's what Kiritsugu had said.

"Hey, Fuji-nee!"

"Yeah?"

"Want to spar one more time?"

_**AOB**_

"I'd like to make a toast, for my son on his first victory!" Kiritsugu raised his glass of whiskey above his head, the other occupants at the table doing the same.

With the exception of Shirou, who started to make himself as small as possible in embarrassment, and Taiga, who grumbled about something that sounded like "So what if I lost? I lose all the time to Kiritsugu-san!"

They were eating dinner and taiga had asked if she could invite her family. Shirou had said yes, with his father's approval, as he would be the one to cook. They had not anticipated on Taiga's definition of family would be her Grandfather and his ten most loyal yakuza henchmen, or elderly care-assistants as he called them. Though Shirou doubted anyone would ever believe the second description, if the scars, suits and sunglasses were any indication.

Though they didn't look top intimidating right now, stuffing their faces with hamburgers and drinking soda like a bunch of children. It was almost enough for Shirou to let out a laugh, though he didn't as even he knew that laughing at a yakuza was enough to get people killed. There were a lot of people with scars and on their faces which meant they probably lived through more conflicts than the average man in their lifetimes. Though technically he was a child so he could ask some questions about how they got their scars. Scars were always a good way to get a conversation going.

As Kiritsugu sat down after the toast Shirou started talking to the yakuza to his left. It was a man with shaven head which showed his giant scar that stretched from his eyebrow to the top of his head.

"So where did you get that scar over your eye?" he asked innocently.

The thug in a suit almost choked on his food and reached for his glass to flush it down. After taking a few gulps of air, he looked down at the kid and glared. Most of the conversations around them had stopped and the occupants were looking at what might soon develop into a hostile situation.

The thug looked at Raiga, the leader of yakuza and Taiga's grandfather. There was a moment of silence as a silent conversation was held between them. At Raiga's nod, the yakuza looked back at Shirou.

"It's considered polite to introduce yourself before asking something like that, kid." he said.

Shirou blinked, but then he gave an innocent smile.

"Oh, sorry about that. My name's Shirou, Emiya Shirou." He introduced himself.

The thug nodded. "Name's Yoshida, kid. And an' why you interested in mah scar, an'way? It's not sumthin' you ask like tat'. Yoshida said in a slight growl.

"`Cause scars are interesting. They show what you've been through and what kind of life you've had. So where did you get it?" He asked one more, curiosity evident on his face.

The yakuza had never had this kind of experience though. Normally people would glance at him and whisper to eachother, silently judging him for his appearance. It was a startling experience for the thug.

He started explaining: "Well, I was doin' my job one day when I received word from the boss. T'ere was a large shipment of… Uh, well of…" He paused; trying to think of a good excuse that didn't entail the kid knowing of the illegal activities his friend's family was involved with. "FLOUR, t'at's right. A large shipment of flour was arrivin' so I was suppose' to make sure it was delivered. So I was at the checkpoint, when a rival yaku… I mean, a rival bakery showed and started ta argue ova' who's flour it was. Then one o' ta bakers hit me with a… what do ya call 'em? Rollin' pin? Only the one side was broken so one of ta handles was sharp. Tat's how I got the scar, kid." He finished, feeling proud of his quick thinking.

"I didn't think you worked as a baker. I thought you were yakuza." Was Shirou honest reply.

The dinner guests all burst into laughter at the look of shock in Yoshida's face. He had gone through the trouble of making up a story so the kid wouldn't know what they did, only for the kid to know exactly what they had been doing from the start. He grumbled to himself in embarrassment, before he turned to Shirou.

"So kid, you interested in scars, right? You got any stories of your own?" Yoshida asked. Most of the people around just took it as a joke, a way to introduce the boy to the family of yakuza. And there's nothing like an introduction through intimidation. Nobody noticed how Kiritsugu and Raiga froze as if they had wanted to avoid this particular topic.

"Yeah, I've got a few. Though the story isn't half as interesting as yours." Shirou said, still wearing the innocent smile of a nine year old.

"Come one, tell us already! We won't laugh, no matter how boring it is." They thought it was like a scar on the knee or elbow. The kind any child would have. But if any of them had paid attention they would have noticed that by now Kiritsugu was trying to motion Shirou to stop, waving his fingers in front of his throat as he desperately pleaded for Shirou to notice. Shirou didn't.

"Well, the first thing I remember is fire. It's everywhere, no matter where you looked. There were people burning and screaming, running as they were trying to put out the flames. I saw families who had been crushed and children who tried to wake their parents. I also remember an opera house and how the fire kept _flowing_ from there. I started walking from the fire, but it managed to catch up to me wherever I went. It would burn me if I slowed down, but if I started running the flames would grow larger around until I stopped. So I walked and walked and walked. When I couldn't move I stopped caring about moving. When it hurt I stopped caring about pain. When I saw a fire-fighter collapse I stopped hoping for rescue. When I saw a mother hold her child I stopped caring about life. So I decided to just lie down. There wasn't anything left, but a sea of flames and a mountain of fire. It was when I gave up that I didn't feel anything at all anymore. There wasn't anything exciting about living, I thought. It was just the same. I had been a living corpse from when the fire started so it wouldn't change if the fire started burning me ashes. As long as I didn't care anymore." He said.

The whole room had gone quiet. Unlike before, when he had asked Yoshida about his scar, this silence was filled with shock. Before they had been watching with cautious eyes, ready to act on a moment's notice.

This silence was horrifying. Nobody moved, as if the person to move first would find themselves in the nightmare the child had just described. Their eyes kept glancing between the kid and eachother, not knowing what they should do in the current situation. They had all realized what he had been telling them of. The Fuyuki fire, the fire which claimed over five hundred lives and demolished every single building around. The fire had started at the opera house, so the kid would have been at the center of it. How he survived was a mystery to all present, but two.

"But then Dad found me and brought me to the hospital. After the burns healed, he adopted me and we got this house. Now I can play with dad and Taiga all day!" he said, as if the pain was worth the time he had with his current makeshift family.

The yakuza stared at him, not believing their ears. If an adult had said that then they would have thought he was insane. But the kid had managed to say it in such a way that it made sense. The sky was blue, water was wet, chocolate was tasty and the kid walking through a field of death was worth it in order to become neighbors with yakuza.

"Well Shirou, thank you for telling us. There won't be any more questions about scars for the rest of the evening, will there?" Asked Raiga over the table. It was a question, but everyone except for Shirou could tell that it was a statement. The case was closed.

Yoshida laughed. "Yeah, sure." He clapped the boy on the back. "You's not bad kid. You's creepy, but definitely not bad." He let out a loud barking laugh as the child tilted his head to the side in confusion, looking more like a puppy than a child. When the other guests saw what he was laughing at they also burst into laughter.

Shirou on the other hand, didn't realize what was so funny, or why Yoshida thought he was creepy. He chalked it up to the weird stuff adults did, like laughing when a girl in the club gave him chocolates on valentine last year, or giggling when she kissed him on the cheek.

He also didn't notice Taiga blushing and giggling when she saw him doing his best in imitating a puppy.

**AOB**

_May 4, 1996_

Kiritsugu and Shirou were in the workshop. Kiritsugu was in teacher-mode and was standing next to an old blackboard and holding a piece of chalk. He was writing on the board while talking at the same time, forcing Shirou to split his attention between the board and his teacher. It was the same pace all the lessons had been during the last month so the youth had little trouble catching everything Kiritsugu said.

"So Shirou," Kiritsugu said. "Name the three branches you've have been studying for." He told his son.

"Projection, also known as Gradation Air, Reinforcement and Alteration." Shirou answered, thankful for the brief pause in the lecture.

"And the properties of each branch?" Kiritsugu continued, not wasting a second of the lesson.

"Gradation air is the act of replicating an object, using your prana as the payment. Due to Gaia sensing the object is an abnormality it starts to reject the object. It gradually decays and is destroyed by the will of the planet. Alteration is giving an already existing object a property it didn't have before. Like water resistance to objects capable of absorbing water. Unlike projection, the world does not see the object as an abnormality and the object will retain the property until destruction of said object's definition. Reinforcement enhances the objects natural properties, like speed, sharpness or durability. Using alteration and reinforcement together is difficult, but with enough practice it is possible to create a different object than the original." Shirou recited, not thinking about what he said while writing down from the board.

Kiritsugu nodded. "Good, but what happens if you apply projection, alteration and reinforcement at the same time?

"That depends on the skill of the user. If the magus is skilled enough to succeed he will create an object, add a property and reinforce said property at the same time, creating a different object straight from his prana. This would in theory trick Gaia into thinking the object is a natural thing, but due to the skill required and prana consumption, no magus alive has been able to prove said theory." He answered offhandedly. At the same time he was writing down what Kiritsugu had written earlier.

"So what happens if a magus uses all three branches and then uses Alchemy to merge the projected item with an already existing one?" he asked.

This was a trick question. None of the books had gone over what he just said. As he thought, Shirou had stopped writing and looked over to Kiritsugu. "The object would be seen as… another object? The natural object would support the projection, but Gaia would know of the abnormality since it intrudes on the natural balance. So a battle happens inside of Gaia itself? One side would support the creation, but the other would want to reject it? What happens if it is rejected, would the natural item be destroyed as well? Or would Gaia allow it to exist in its altered form?" Shirou asked his father.

That was the ultimate technique to projection and alteration. It was theoretically possible to create permanent projections, but it was far easier to use an already existing tool. A magus could use alteration and reinforcement on a tool and achieve the same results as projecting something and merging it with something that already exists. The problem with the theory was the projections themselves. A projection was just that, a projection. It was a copy, with flaws and weaknesses. These weaknesses were the reason Gaia had rejected the experiments so far.

"It's possible, but nobody is capable of doing it. It's cheaper on your Od to simply use something that already exist and reinforce it. Since you have a limited repertoire of spells, but no shortage of prana this would be a good use of Magecraft for you. When you work with your mystic codes you wouldn't need to continuously project your code except for the one time you start. After that you merge it and, if Gaia recognizes it you would have a constant mystic code which you could alter and merge with newer models. Of course this requires extreme skill with projection and structural grasp as the projection would have to be an exact copy of the original in order to avoid the flaws noticeable by Gaia. That is why it is just a theory; there hasn't been a magus capable of fooling Gaia yet. It is simply too good at detecting errors and bugs in the system." He said.

"Does that mean I'm supposed to learn something that hasn't been proven possible? How?" Shirou asked. "Swords are easy to make, but it's easier to just project a new sword when I need one, isn't it?" He said as he out his pen under his nose and held it there as a mustache, a childish action he started using when thinking.

"Who said your first mystic code will be a sword? I've got something other planned for you." Kiritsugu smiled. He walked over to the garage door. During the renovation, Kiritsugu had decided to add a garage to the storehouse. It was a large square room which held several large objects hidden by dusty covers. He entered the garage and removed one of them.

When Shirou saw what was under the dusty covers his jaw fell.

"Dad, is that a…?"

"Yup."

"And I'm supposed to…?"

"Yup."

"But won't I need education in…?"

"Nope."

"So that is my first mystic…?"

"Yup."

"Dad… You're awesome!"

Kiritsugu smiled.

"Yup."

Shirou started walking to his future Mystic Code, but paused when he realized: He had no idea what to do with it. When he turned his attention to his father to ask for advice he saw the books in his father's hands.

Using structural grasp to see what the books were about, he smiled when he knew what they were meant for and what the titles were.

_Runes, Engravings and Alchemy: How you create a Mystic Code._

In all the time Kiritsugu had known his adopted son, he had never seen him read something so eagerly. Nor had he seen anyone get so excited about receiving a broken stove and oven as research project.

He decided to just leave it to Shirou being Shirou.

**AOB**

_May 20, 1996_

Lili Silverström was glanced around the room. While she had met Kiritsugu multiple times around the world and had visited Irisviel and Kiritsugu several times in Einzbern castle, she could honestly say that this was the first time Lili had been invited to Kiritsugu's home.

The times she had visited Iri had been by Iri's initiative and she could tell Kiritsugu didn't consider the castle his home. Iri was comfortable wherever Kiritsugu went, (a fact which infuriated her to her very core) but she could tell Kiritsugu did not have a place he could call home. It wasn't that he was exiled or anything, but he didn't have a place where he could relax and let his guard down. In the castle he gave off an image that reminded her of a guard dog, silent and resting, but slightest threat and he would respond with deadly force.

The Kiritsugu in front of her did not have that image. He was smiling and the smile actually reached his eyes. That was something he only did around Iri and Illya a few times and the only reason she had seen was because Iri had taken a picture with a camera (though the photo had been off angle and only showed half of his face due to her lack of experience with the device). Even that smile had been filled with pain for some reason, but now that she thought about it he must have known his time with her was limited. That would probably be enough to put a damper on any joy he had.

The boy he called son was also smiling, but unlike Kiritsugu who was smiling because she had just said she would be his tutor, he just smiled because he had been given the traditional clothing any Atlas-apprentice wore.

It was a part of their agreement. Lili, or a trusted professor, would on a regular basis travel to japan and instruct the child. In return, all progress the child made would be recorded and sent to Lili's personal records and the, after screening and censuring the information in order to conceal his existence, the reports would be sent to the Atlas library. That wasn't all, though. Even if the boy wouldn't be spending all his time at Atlas Academy like an ordinary student, he was still accepted as one. He would therefore have to wear the uniform whenever the lessons were held.

Though, she had her worries now that she had given it to him.

The black coat reminded her of Kiritsugu's trenchcoat, the black piece of cloth was almost as much of a symbol of the Magus Killer as the Thompson Contender was. Seeing the way the child stared at the coat and then at Kiritsugu told her that the boy, Shirou she thought his name was, had also seen the resemblance, but instead of seeing fear and caution in his eyes she saw… admiration? Excitement? Was that even a little bit of pride she saw?

The younger Japanese in the room was an odd one, she could tell. Even if the kid had been saved by Kiritsugu and later adopted by the same person, there should at least have been a little trepidation after having been compared to the most feared anti-magus in the world. But instead the apprentice was eager to mimic his teacher. To be honest, it was more than a little ominous.

"Is this really for me? Can I try it on?" Shirou asked. He was holding the black cloth like it was a holy shroud. As soon as it had come into his hands he hadn't moved a bit, almost as if any careless act would disgrace fabric and he would lose the right to wear it.

"Yes, it is and yes, you may. Put it on and see if it fits." He didn't waste a second. As soon as the words left her mouth, he was on his feet and his left arm was halfway in the sleeve. When he was done, he turned around and showed his new piece of clothing.

She couldn't say it didn't fit him. The coat was customary for all students at Atlas so it had been sewn to fit as many people as possible, regardless of the gender. It was a neutral black coat with a collar and black buttons around the chest area. It reached to his ankles and had no pockets. In terms of looks, he made quite the stunning Atlas student. The fact that he wore a black dress shirt with a tie underneath as well as black trousers enhanced the image of an heir to a family, even if the family in question was young compared to families in Clock Tower. It was a shame he would never appear in Atlas and show himself.

The only problem with the image was the resemblance it gave. Kiritsugu's trademark look had been a black suit and tie, covered with a trenchcoat. That, along with the fact that he was Japanese, made him a much known figure based solely on that description. Asia was alienated to the association to the point that Kiritsugu had been infamous on the description of Asian alone.

Now she was seeing another Japanese wearing a black shirt and tie with a trenchcoat on top. The only major difference between Kiritsugu and Shirou was the hair. Kiritsugu had black while Shirou had red, but otherwise you would almost think he was the real son to the Magus killer.

"Hmm, it feels weird. Like a weight on my shoulder that increases every time I turn. It's tight too, especially around the back. I can't move my arms forward." He said with a frown. He looked almost like he was breaking the law by saying that the piece of clothing that made him resemble his father was not perfection itself. And although she might have agreed because she was feeling uncomfortable seeing a Magus Killer mini-me, she had to say he was right.

Most magi who wore the uniform were scientists and scholars. They didn't have the muscles that the battle-oriented magi tended to develop. When Kiritsugu had told her that he was a nine year old boy she had brought the standard clothing for an apprentice of the same age and gender. It seemed the training that Kiritsugu had put the boy through had resulted in a well-muscled chest and sturdy arms for his age.

"That might be because of your training. Enforcers tend to alter their uniforms in order to maximize their Magecraft. Why don't you try the same?" It seemed Kiritsugu had come to the same conclusion as she had and judging by the look on his face he had not like the fact that he resembled his old self either. His suggestion could have been an attempt to make Shirou look like another person in order to separate Emiya Shirou and Emiya Kiritsugu.

"Can I go do it now?" Shirou asked, excited over the idea of being capable of designing his own superhero-outfit.

"Not yet, you still have to try it out in a combat situation before you know what to alter. If you tried to do it now you would just change the appearance without knowing the actual problem. That would damage the cloth beyond repair. Wait until we spar, then you can start making your changes." Kiritsugu said, easily slipping into his teacher-mode. It was something he noted having grown surprisingly skillful in doing lately.

Shirou nodded, but it was clear he had been excited to start making his own clothes. Kiritsugu noticed his expression and added: "Why don't you start cooking Lili some food? She's been traveling all day and I know you've heard what kind of food they serve on the plane." Lili cringed at the mention of food. The lasagna the airline served had made her stomach feel like it had gone through the nine levels of hell. She had spent a majority of the flight in the bathroom, rejecting the foul attempt at coking.

"If you do decide to cook, could you make something easy on the belly? I'm having a case of indigestion here." This caused the two men (or one man and one boy) to stare at her. Then Shirou hurried to the kitchen. Kiritsugu stare slowly turned into a slight chuckle. Anyone who knew Lili knew laughing at her was a sure way to make her angry.

"What are you laughing at? What's so funny?" She asked as she stood up, trying to make her look as intimidating as possible. Kiritsugu stopped chuckling and forced his grin down to a small smile.

"You, Lili, are the most direct person I've ever met. The reason I'm laughing is because I think you just crushed Shirou's image of you." He said. Lili didn't seem to know what he meant until she realized what she had just said.

"Did I just admit I had a diarrhea in front of a nine year old and my student?" she asked out loud, not really wanting an answer. She got one anyway.

"That you did, my brutally honest friend. That you did." That was the only thing Kiritsugu said before showing her to the guest room, indicating she should get some sleep before she tried to re-establish her image as a teacher.

It was clear sign she needed the rest if started talking about her bowels in front of Kiritsugu and his kid.

**AOB**

After Shirou had made dinner and they had eaten a somewhat awkward meal, Shirou had gone to bed leaving Kiritsugu and Lili to talk about their plans.

"So what is it you're planning for him? I can tell you've been giving him combat training, but I can't tell what kind and for what purpose. And what's with the books you ordered?_ Runes, Engravings and Alchemy_? _Machinery and Magecraft_? _Transmutation and its limits_?_ Alchemy: The Body and Soul_? That's not the kind of literature that covers the basics. You're planning something specific for him, but you don't want me to know what it is. The problem is I can't work with someone I can't trust. What are you planning, Kiritsugu?" She asked the man on the opposite side of the table.

Kiritsugu sighed, something he had been doing a lot more often lately. The curse from Angra Mainyu had been taking its toll on his weakened body. He had been using herbal medicine and Magecraft to halt the effects, but everything had a limit.

"Yes, I'm planning something, but it's not something dangerous. Not for you or for Shirou. But in order to protect both of you from the potential effects, I have to keep most of it a secret. I don't mean to insult you, but I can't tell you anything else." The way he worded it made it sound like she needed to be unknowing of what happened when it happened. If that was the case it would probably affect Atlas, but not to the degree of immediate effects. In other words, an ally of the academy.

That was a long list. Despite the fact that Atlas was a part of the Mage's association, it still had contacts with the Church and other associations. That meant the list of allies was long, but the ones with ties to the Emiya family was surprisingly short. The Clock Tower, the enforcers, the executioners, the…

Oh…

"I see. In that case I understand why you would keep your secrets close at hand, but that does not mean I'm happy with it. I do not enjoy being played with!" She crossed her arms and glared at him. She ignored his muttering of "…unless the one playing with you was Iri or Maiya, that is…"

"Trust me, I wouldn't lie to you. Not when there is so much at stake. And I have so little time left." He said. This caught her off guard and caught her interest.

"What do you mean? Is there a deadline to your… mission?" She inquired. Deadlines were always a pain in the backside. Especially with someone of Kiritsugu's profession, where a deadline could make you slip up in order to complete it in time.

"Yes, there is… with an emphasis on the `Dead'." His previous smile and joyful appearance had disappeared, leaving nothing, but a grim and cold look.

* * *

><p>Omake- Regular Ordinary Japanese Mealtime-<p>

"So after you boil the spaghetti and poured out the water, you add some butter in order to stop the spaghetti from sticking together?" Sakura asked Shirou. They were in his kitchen and were cooking a western dish.

"That's right, but there are alternatives. Like adding some salt or oil when it's boiling." Shirou answered with a smile.

Sakura couldn't help, but feel butterflies in her stomach when she saw that smile. Though she couldn't ask for more, the terrible voice in the back of her head demanded more attention.

"Sempai, when is our next practice time? I really want to learn how to make more dishes with you." She said, the last two words almost a whisper.

Shirou thought, his training had been picking up recently so he didn't have the time necessary to instruct her as often. Then he got an idea.

"Sakura, why don't you try to make a western dish at home and then you try to make it here as well, to show me how far you've gotten?" He asked her.

Sakura froze. She could show her sempai how good her cooking was? She could impress him with her food and then he would declare his undying love for her and she would accept. Then he would sweep her off her feet and take her to the bedroom where he would proceed to bend her over and…

"Sakura, are you okay? You're drooling and you've gotten a nosebleed all of a sudden. And your face is all red, do you have a fever?" he asked her, breaking her from her kinky daydream.

"Yes, of course. Sure, yeah… Just need to, uhm, you know? I'm fine, it's nothing." She said hastily, her blush coming back at full force. She hastily started wiping her nose from any blood as she covered her drooling mouth.

"Okay, but there's only one rule: you are not allowed to make any dishes I showed you. They have to be original, understand?" He said.

Sakura nodded eagerly. "Yes, I understand! I need to go now, bye!" she almost yelled as she ran out of the house, determined to shoe her sempai her love.

**AOB**

_Later that evening…_

"Sakura, where's my dinner?! I'm hungry!" Shinji yelled to the kitchen. When he walked into the kitchen he saw his sister ripping out book after book, searching desperately for something.

"Sakura, what are you doing?!" he screamed. She turned around to face him and he flinched. Her hair had become white with black appendages hovering ominously around her. Her red eyes were giving him a stare as if she was staring straight into his soul and found it inadequate.

"Shinji…" `_Shinji'? _What happened to calling him Nii-san? Why was she staring at him like that? "What happened to the cooking books I had around here?" She asked him.

"O-oh, those books… Grandpa needed more room for his worm-breeding books so I had to throw them ou… Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, filled to the brim with fear.

"_Shinjiii… How do you expect me to cook for sempai when I don't have any instructions?" _There it was again, that terrifying tone she used.

"I, I don't know. Try the internet or something!" He screamed in fright an ran from the room.

Sakura calmed down and went to the computer in Shinji's room. There were several sites that showed how to cook, but she decided to watch a video since she needed the visual comparisons as well.

`_What do to? What will sempai like the most? He seems to have a prefer making Swedish dishes. Probably because of that Swedish woman who keeps visiting him. Filthy skank, trying to get close to my sempai. I'll show her who's the best woman for my poor, delicate sempai.'_ were the thoughts in Sakura's head.

"Hmmm, what kind of Swedish dishes can I make? I should probably make some normal, everyday dishes…` Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time'? That sounds about right!"

_Even later…_

Zouken did not know what to think.

It had started as a normal dinner. Sakura was standing in the kitchen, with Zouken and Shinji sitting at the table. Then both of had had been surprised by the color change in the girl. The both of them were staring wide-eyed at the white-haired girl.

The only reason Zouken was here was because Zouken had been called by Sakura for dinner and he had decided to join them, if only to capitalize on the chance to make her mentality even worse. He had been woefully unprepared for the consequences.

She had started by screaming the names of the ingredients while throwing them at her brother and adoptive grandfather. Zouken was nursing a rather large bump on his head from receiving a kilogram of frozen minced meat at high velocity to his forehead. Shinji has passed out after Sakura had thrown a can of crushed tomatoes to his groin, a hit that made Zouken think he might have gone a bit too far in encouraging Shinji to take advantage of his sister.

She then started yelling about what to do _while doing it._

"Add water to the spaghetti! Twelve is too hot, eleven will do! Chop the onions!"

A short while later she opened the oven and screamed: "UUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGNNNNNNNN!"

However the worst part was when she started smiling an eerie smile while grabbing Shinji by the throat and said. "Time for some pre-dinner Miso!" after which she proceeded in emptying an entire _BUCKET_ of miso soup in his throat while chanting: "It's good for you!"

It was made even worse by the fact that she had erected some kind of bounded field that prevented him from moving or escaping. The fact that he was too scared to even consider the fact that if he dissolved into worms he might be able to escape passed him by.

When it was all over and Shinji woke up, the first thing that came out of the boy's mouth was…

"Grandpa, I'm scared."

Zouken nodded.

"So am I, Shinji. So am I."

Unfortunately for the both of them, after this day, all the meals in the Matou household were served this way for the years to come.

**AOB**

_A few weeks later…_

"I don't see what Shinji was complaining about. This food is great! The way you prepared it was also the most graceful I have seen in years!" Shirou praised Sakura.

Sakura was drinking in every word her sempai said like it was fine wine. The fact that he praised her for something he himself was quite good at just made her have a small orgasm. Then she remembered what he said.

"Sempai, what did you mean when you said _Nii-san _had been complaining?" the way she said the word `Nii-san' promised pain.

"Oh, he was complaining about something called a `Satanic Salad' and `Bottomless Sticky Cake' or something… he also mentioned something called a `Kitsune-san'. Anyway, he kept rambling about something every time I asked about how you were doing in the kitchen. Sometimes I think Shinji might be a little mentally unstable. You know what I mean?" he said.

Sakura just smiled and said: "Don't worry sempai, I'll make sure he gets all the nutrition he needs. You know, there is something I have wanted to try. In Sweden they have something called a Christmas table. Do you know what that is?" she asked her sempai innocently.

"Christmas table? Yeah, we had one last Christmas with Lili. It's like a banquet, but for family and friends where they basically cook like nine complete dishes. For example; meatballs, prinskorv, which is Swedish for Prince-sausage, ham, smoked salmon, herring, eggs, potatoes…" Shirou started counting all the dishes while Sakura wrote them down.

Shirou never noticed the sinister smile spreading across Sakura's face.

**AOB**

_Unknown date and location…_

"No please, Sakura! Stop it, I can't take it anymore!" screamed Shinji.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, _Nii-san_! You went and complained to sempai. Only bad boys do that and bad boys need to be punished, don't they grandpa?" she asked her adoptive grandfather.

The grandfather in question was currently strapped to a chair and had a tube taped around his mouth. The tube was connected to a machine with the label _Miso-pumper 3000_ on the side. His eyes were rolled back and it was quite clear he had passed out. It looked even more pathetic with the oversized baby bib covered with miso.

Sakura was wearing a gasmask in order to avoid smelling the stench of the surstömming on the plate she was holding. She was slowly force-feeding the blue haired boy while the black appendages around her were preparing several dozen more jars of the horribly smelly food. At the same time they were holding bottles of miso soup and every time Shinji swallowed the fish dish which was supposed to have the most nauseating smell, they would empty a bottle of miso in his mouth. They would also pinch his nose when that happened so he would still smell the fish, but would have to swallow the miso if he wanted to breathe.

"It appears Grandpa agrees with me! Good, now open up and eat your miso, Nii-san. It's good for you!"

**AOB**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay night or anything from the Nasuverse. They belong to Type-moon.

_Archer of Black_

_Chapter three: The Beginning of an Archer_

**So here we are with the third chapter. This chapter clocked in at about 12,000 words and 20 pages. I'm trying to increase the page count and my goal is to make the average chapter at 30 pages so expect larger updates in the future. Anyway, we introduce a new character in this chapter and Shirou makes a new friend (or does he?). Try to guess who she really is, it's not really that hard if you think about it.**

_(Spoilers)_

_There were a lot of things being said in this chapter, but there wasn't any real action happening here. The first three chapters were just meant to be preparing Shirou for events to come and that's where we are now. In a few chapters the main arc will begin and it's related to what's going to happen in this chapter._

_Look forward to it!_

_(Spoilers)_

**AOB**

_June 13, 1996_

Kiritsugu was watching Shirou trace his swords. They were training his speed in tracing. There had been a significant improvement since the start. What previously took five seconds to trace, now took little more than 2.

Though despite the improvement it was still a rather boring task, even if he thought Shirou's use of Tracing was quite impressive. While Shirou seemed to be able to read the history of a sword just by looking at it, it was when he traced it that it was showing the fruits of his labor.

The reason he thought it was boring was simply because that was what it was: boring. Kiritsugu was used to being on long, tiresome missions involving stakeouts that turned out to be completely useless so he had the discipline to hold back his yawn, but there was no denying that watching Shirou trace the same blade time after time after damnable time again was not getting any more interesting.

He remembered how Shirou had managed to make a breakthrough on his projections. Kiritsugu had honestly felt like kicking himself. He had been so focused on getting Shirou strong enough that by the time he died, Shirou would be capable enough to take on the enforcers, but as a result he had neglected the basics again. He had _assumed_ that Shirou knew enough projection and had decided to focus on Shirou's physical skill with the swords before starting with reinforcement, but as it turned out, Shirou had not mastered projection enough it seemed. Or it was not projection he had mastered would probably be closer to the truth.

When a magus used projection, they followed a preordained order of commands. The first command was `Visualizing the structure´. This was followed with `copying the material´. The last command was `projecting the finished product´. These were the three basic steps that all magi follow when using projection, without exception.

So why was it that Shirou had been getting gradually better results when not using the three commands? Simple, he had created other commands from scratch. Instead of three steps to an incomplete copy, Shirou used _seven _commands to a complete replica.

However, even the description complete replica cannot be a suitable description. He replicated the entire history of the object, even the abilities. That was not something a simple projection was capable of doing.

It had made him dizzy, trying to wrap his mind about the fact that his adopted son, a child who had been practicing Magecraft, _real _Magecraft, for less than six months had basically created an entirely new branch of magic.

The door to the storehouse opened up and the wind blew the ends of the scarf Lili had given him in the face. Annoyed, he swiped away the offending piece of fabric. He had never caught a cold once in his life, but mention that you'll die in a few weeks and the women all start giving you mystical artifacts in order to prolong your life.

Kiritsugu was a grown adult with the discipline of a man who lived a life of death. He had seen plenty of slaughters and wars in his years, enough to make a grown man weep, but he had never been good with stupid clothing accessories. It was too long and got in the way of his movements. The only good thing about it (If you could even call it good at all) was that Shirou had been even more eager to learn from him now since he looked like a superhero, the oversized scarf obviously giving the illusion of a cape.

Speaking if Shirou, they had finally been able to come up with a design for his uniform.

_Flashback…_

_Shirou and his father were standing in the yard, both holding shinai pointed towards eachother. Kiritsugu was wearing hakama pants and a black shirt; his traditional kimono had an unfortunate accident in the washing machine. His scarf had been wrapped around his neck several times in order to keep the tails out of his face._

_Shirou on the other hand was wearing a black T-shirt and shorts with his trenchcoat on top. While he was standing still, it was possible to see him roll his shoulders in discomfort due to the arms being too tight. It was when he had finally had enough of the standstill that he made his move._

_Shirou rushed towards Kiritsugu, his black coat bellowing behind him. He reached his opponent in less than a second and proceeded to unleash a barrage of attacks that a lesser man would have had no possible way to dodge._

_Fortunately, Kiritsugu was no lesser man. For every strike Shirou threw, his father dodged or deflected. There were no wasted energy in his movements, every step was planned and executed perfectly, just like his missions as the Magus Killer. For a short moment, Kiritsugu was back with Maiya, teaching her how to fight in close combat._

_Then the moment was gone and he stopped defending. Shirou noticed the difference in his posture and changed his stance to a defensive one. Not a moment too soon as the first strike Kiritsugu used would have knocked him several feet back. Instead the force of the blow simply made him skid back on his feet, leaving to straight lines of where his feet had torn the earth._

_He had no time to think about it though as Kiritsugu were just a few feet away and was already entering into another offensive stance. _

_Shirou got into position and shifted his right side back, his left foot forward and aimed the tip of his shinai lower, leaving an opening in his chest that would make the opponent think his right foot was weaker due to the powerslide. His father saw the opening… but ignored it in favour of striking his throat. _

_Shirou barely blocked the potentially lethal blow, but received a cut on his cheek where the shinai had nicked him at full speed. He tried once again to leave an opening for his opponent, but when he lowered his arm he noticed how the coat had been blowing in the wind and covering his arms when he used them to trap his adversary._

_He didn't have time correct the error so when Kiritsugu reached him, all he managed to do was prepare himself for the downward strike on his shoulder that his father struck._

_BWHAM!_

_Shirou was sent tumbling to the ground, the shinai flying out of his hands and landing in a bush. When he finally stopped rolling from the force of the blow, he tried standing up, but the pain radiating from his shoulder stopped him. He froze on the ground while his face was twisted in pain. The blow must have broken his collarbone and very time he tried to move his arm waves of pain overwhelmed his body._

_Kiritsugu saw his expression and his face softened. "Sorry about that. I didn't want to hit you so hard, but we were trying to make it as real as possible. When you're ready, come to the storehouse." He walked to his workshop, leaving the boy in the yard._

_When he got inside he let out a sigh. The strain of maintaining the teacher-persona, father-persona and the Magus Killer-persona was starting to show. When they weren't training he could let his fatherly side take over and he could be the father he wanted to be and let Shirou have the childhood he deserved. That was the easy part, but during the times they were sparring he could not afford to take it easy on the kid since he would one day have to enter the snake pit called Mage's Association. He would have to become as cold as the Magus Killer if he wanted to have any chance of survival._

_The teacher-persona was his middle ground. It gave him the chance to be fatherly while at the same time he could be harsh when needed. But he wouldn't be around forever and while his progress had been impressive for just half a year, it was still not enough to deal with the likes of Clock Tower._

_Shirou walked in, nursing his arm. It appeared that he had regained movement of it, but he still felt pain from the fracture. Healing a broken collarbone in less than fifteen minutes was impressive, especially now that saber wasn't around to boost the effects with her prana. He turned to his student, his teacher-persona in effect._

"_So, tell me; what did you think of your coat? Did it limit your movements?" He asked his son. _

_Shirou sat down on the couch, mindful of his throbbing shoulder. "Well, the arms are still tight and I can't button it all the way up, but the biggest problem was that it covers the fake openings I leave. Most of the traps I use involve the arms and chest, but the coat keeps covering them. It's good for covering the legs like hakama, but they flap around too much when I'm moving unless I button it and that just makes it uncomfortable."_

_Kiritsugu nodded. There were several solutions to the problem, but he didn't know if Lili would approve of him butchering the outfit._

"_I guess we could…"_

_Flashback End_

So far they had not managed very far into the outfit. Shirou's constant demand that it looks like a superhero-outfit clashed with Kiritsugu's own utilitarian views. He could understand the desire for individuality, but as the Magus killer it would be infinitely easier for him to blend in if he kept the basic design of a trenchcoat. His hope was that Shirou wouldn't start catching villains just to tell them "I'm Swordman!" and then leave when nobody is looking if he followed his Kiritsugu's choice of attire..

He really wouldn't put it past the boy if he became vigilante the moment Kiritsugu left to talk to the Einzberns. Shirou was, despite the harsh training and lessons, a child through and through and with his admiration for heroes he doubted that would change anytime soon.

When Shirou had traced his five-hundredth sword he stopped. He was covered in sweat from the heat produced from his circuits, but since he was tracing a nameless short sword less than a month old without any magical properties, the prana-consumption was practically nonexistent. The only effects were the aforementioned heat and a slight headache which Avalon was capable of removing.

Shirou turned to his father. "I've traced it over five-hundred times now, dad. Can I please start learning reinforcement now?" he asked.

That had been the condition for the next step. Reinforcement was normally looked down upon by the majority of magi, but when someone of Kiritsugu's caliber used reinforcement then it was a deadly weapon. The only problem was knowing _how_ to use it and how _much_ to use. Using too much prana would result in crippling the user. Likewise, to reinforce only certain parts of ones physique and neglect the rest would harm the rest of the body. For example, if someone reinforced his arm muscles, but forgot to reinforce the bones in his arm he would break his arm into several sharp fragments which would start cutting into his muscles. There several other ways to harm oneself with this Magecraft, but that was the one most often used as an example.

The other reasons he had waited until now to teach him was his body's own physical form. Reinforcement could only enhance one's body to a certain degree based on the basic status on the body itself. If the body was on a scale from one to ten, with one being overweight and ten being Olympic medalist, then a one could become a ten with reinforcement. A ten on the other hand could, theoretically, become a hundred. Shirou would have needed more muscles on his body to utilize his Magecraft since more muscles gave more room for prana, thus increasing the overall limit.

"All right, let's start then." He motioned for the sword-magus to come closer. He picked up a box from his desk and set it in front of Shirou. He opened the box, revealing it to be filled with pencils. Several yellow, round, wooden pencils with an eraser on the top had been sharpened and were lying in the box on top of eachother. He picked one up and threw it to Shirou, who caught it on reflex without looking away from the box with confusion on his face.

"Inside this box is over a hundred pencils. You are not allowed to use reinforcement on yourself until you've managed to reinforce the pencils without breaking them. Just managing one is not enough. Until you can manage at least twenty perfectly reinforced pencils in a row, you are not leaving this stage, understand?" he asked. Shirou nodded and he continued with his explanation.

"Reinforcement is when pour prana into an object. This object can be anything, but certain materials are better at storing and conducting prana than others. By pouring prana into it you strengthen the imperfections and flaws of said object, but add too much and it will break due to overload of prana. That's why you need a balance for how much you use. Most magi see the flaws as cracks which need to be filled. This helps for visualization for the amount, but you also need to know how to strengthen it, like how many flaws each object has and how large each flaw is. The best way to do this is by using structural grasp on it. You don't get a very accurate reading on it, but it gives you an estimate. The last thing you need to know is how a reinforced object affects a mundane object. Like your bones for example. How do you think a reinforced arm is going to affect a mundane shoulder? The arm will tear itself from the shoulder within seconds." He continued for several minutes before showing Shirou by reinforcing a pencil which he later tried to break, and failed to do." He paused and adapted a thoughtful look. He then continued with whatever had made him stop.

"One of the tricks to becoming skilled at reinforcement is being able to pour more prana into an object without breaking it. This sounds ridiculously obvious, but in practice it's not. Most magi simply pour enough prana to fill seventy or eighty percent of the flaws or cracks, but with enough practice a magus can fill up to ninety. Train even more and it's possible to reach ninety-nine percent. When you've reached this level you will start seeing cracks inside the cracks which can be filled. This can go on and on, but a vast majority only goes for the bare minimum. Only those who focus on combat really use advanced reinforcement."

"Now, your lesson will be to try and reinforce all of these pencils without breaking any of them. You have three hours to before Taiga arrives and wants dinner, which gives you approximately two and a half hour before you have to start cooking for her. If you need anything or have any questions, just ask." With that he turned around and started to assemble his guns again as he heard Shirou pick a pencil from the box.

A few seconds after that he heard a crack and a wince. It looked like it was not going to be a very exciting day after all. He might have to stock up on pencils when he went out next time though…

**AOB**

_June 22, 1996_

Despite his earlier assumptions, Shirou had managed to master reinforcement quite quickly. Nine days ago he had cracked every pencil he tried, but now he had cleared the stage of wooden pencils and had mastered other objects as well. He was looking at the other projects right now.

In front of him were several boxes, similar to the ones with wooden pencils, but they had different contents. One was filled with _mechanical _pencils. These were similar to their wooden counterparts, but were made with plastic (A material known for its low prana conductivity and thus easily breakable) and were made up of several parts, increasing the difficulty by several levels. Shirou had managed to reinforce them to an unbelievable degree despite his inexperience. He doubted he could break any of them without reinforcing himself.

The second was filled with metal tent pegs. They were thin pieces of metal which had no magical properties whatsoever. The only reason he bought them was because he didn't want Shirou to jump from pencils to other projects too fast. They were made of steel, which had a high level of prana conductivity, but steel was hard to reinforce for a beginner due to the focus required. Once more, it had barely taken a day for him to reinforce them all except for the first ten that showed hairline cracks here and there before he was able to adjust his input.

The last box was larger, due to the contents, and he had high hopes for Shirou if he could reinforce what was inside.

So far Shirou had managed to reinforce the pencils and metal pegs, but the last box was his current subject of experimentation. Seeing Shirou successfully build a miniature version of the Eiffel tower using the pegs and pencils, he decided it was time to increase the difficulty. Though when he saw the tower he thought Shirou might possess a talent for design. He could customize his uniform with little difficulty and despite the fact that Shirou had never seen the real Eiffel tower; the model he was building looked almost like an exact copy.

"Shirou, come here." He said. Shirou added the last peg, the one supposed to represent the broadcast antennae, then stood up and walked over to Kiritsugu. Kiritsugu took the last box and opened it up, revealing its contents. Inside were not pencils, pegs or anything of that sort. Instead several arrows filled the inside of the metal container. The arrows were made of wood with steel tips and synthetic feathers. The tips were the broadhead-variant and made of steel. The arrowhead itself was hollow as the three edges met at the point. The moment Shirou saw them he knew that they weren't practice arrows, these were made for killing. The large arrowhead was unsuited for target practice as they would damage the target too much, but if the target was a human… A normal human wouldn't be getting up if they were hit with one of these.

"These will be the last test before you attempt human reinforcement. As you already know from personal experience, attempting magic beyond your grasp will hurt or kill you. That's why I made these arrows to reinforce. They are made with several metals that have high conductivity, but have magical properties. Each have runes on them to increase durability and sharpness, but this will be the first time you attempt magic on a mystic code so take your time before you reinforce them. Use structural grasp as much as you can before attempting to do anything. You don't have an accurate grasp on tracing mystic codes so I don't expect you to do anything anytime soon." His tone was like metal, sharp and cold. Or maybe not cold, emotionless would probably a better choice of words. Up until now he had worn the mask of a teacher, but during his lecture he had slipped into the role of the Magus Killer. Efficiency to the outmost limit.

Shirou flinched. He had seen his father wear that same expression in their spars countless times. Every time he made a mistake that would have killed him in real combat Kiritsugu would lose all emotions in order to correct that mistake. Usually by leaving bruises the size of his hand.

"So I'm supposed to grasp it until I get the most accurate read on the cracks and the prana consumption, then reinforce the individual parts without canceling the properties they already have?" His tone was careful, still wary of his father's voice and the deadly purpose of the projectiles he was holding.

Kiritsugu didn't answer. He just put the box on the floor and started walking to the door. When he reached it, he opened it, but stopped before he left. He turned around and said:

"Shirou, this is your last chance. If anyone finds out about you and the fact that you are studying combat magic, they won't leave you alone. By now, you know the purpose of those arrows. They are not the ones you use in the archery club, comparing accuracy with your friends. They are deadly and are used for gruesome purposes. Take this final step and you've passed the point of no return. After this, you're studying to become the next Magus Killer, do you understand?"

Shirou nodded.

Kiritsugu sighed.

"Then if you want to study under me, talk to me when those arrows are capable of piercing steel. If you don't want to study more, just leave them in this room and we won't ever speak of this again." With that he left the storehouse, leaving his son with a choice that would determine his future.

**AOB**

_Several hours later…_

Kiritsugu was sipping on his scotch, thinking about what Shirou would do. He was sure that Shirou would continue, but he had actually been hoping Shirou would say no, to be happy with his current life, going to school and having fun with friends. It was what Kiritsugu had wanted him to do ever since he found him. But despite whatever he said, the boy would still hold onto his belief of being a superhero. And if he needed Magecraft to be one, he would hold onto that chance no matter what hardships he went through.

In a way, Shirou resembled himself when he was younger. Not their appearance or mannerisms, but by their single-mindedness. Kiritsugu had been trapped in his hope of saving the world, just like Shirou is trapped in his dream of heroes. It had taken Kiritsugu almost causing an apocalypse to wake him from his bindings and even now he is hoping that there might be a way to save the world from suffering and war.

Would Shirou suffer the same way he did? Would Shirou be stuck in his cycle of death of a few for the lives of the many? How could Kiritsugu prepare him for that? Could he even prepare him for a life of assassinations and backstabbing? These questions plagued Kiritsugu as he time and time again though about the advantages and disadvantages of letting Shirou learn Magecraft. Every time he thought about Shirou clashing with the Einzberns, he wanted to increase Shirou's training just so he would have a slightly higher chance at winning, but what would the cost be? Shirou was already spending most of his time training, anymore and what little social life the boy had with his classmates and Taiga would be replaced with spars and lectures. What kind of life was that? Kiritsugu had lived that life with Natalia, moving from place to place in order to train for the next target. He would not let Shirou live that way.

But despite his wishes of letting Shirou live an ordinary life, he could not let his adopted son go, if only so his real daughter could be saved. Kiritsugu had lost his ability to destroy bounded fields long ago and as a result, Illya was still inside the barrier of the Einzbern family. He could not save her, not with his slowly weakening body and magic circuits. But Shirou could. Shirou could infiltrate the barrier and rescue Illya. Shirou could stop them from turning her into a political tool for their own benefit. She possessed the DNA of the Emiya family and when Kiritsugu died she could be used to demand the magic crest from the association. It might not be the type of Magecraft the Einzberns specialize in, but a magus would never miss a chance like that. She would become more of a puppet than her mother was to them. He could not leave her in that place, not when Iri had died thinking that he would take care of her like a father would, like he would have had the plan worked.

No, as much as he despised himself for doing it, he would have to turn Shirou into the next Magus Killer, only better. Shirou wouldn't hunt apostles, sealing designates or terrorists for the sake of world peace. Shirou would save as many people as he could, yes, but Shirou would save those closest to him first.

…And who was closer to you than your family? Even if you have never met them before?

He gulped down the last of his drink, the alcohol burning as it was flowed down his throat. At the same time, the door opened and Shirou entered. The appearance of his son set his earlier thoughts on alert. Had Shirou given up? Had all of Kiritsugu's plans been for nothing and would Illya spend the rest of her miserable life inside the Einzbern barrier? Did Shirou not want to be a magus, and therefore not the Magus killer?

Kiritsugu did not know whether to be filled with dread or hope as he waited for Shirou to speak. To give any indication of what he wanted to do. If he wanted to stay as a normal kid in Fuyuki city with a few scars or if he wanted to become one of the most feared magi in the world. Shirou's face gave no indication of what he had chosen either. Those were not the eyes of someone who had succeeded at a difficult task after hours of work. Nor were they the eyes of someone who was ashamed of failing a task others had hoped would he would accomplish. He was serious, not like when you out your mind to something, but not unlike it either. He looked… resigned? He had accepted something and was prepared for the consequences now, whether it was a reward or punishment. It was not the expression an eight year old should have, no matter what he had to do.

His expression tightened when he saw Shirou trace something in his hand. It was an arrow, just like the ones in the shed. His structural grasp told him that this was not a reinforced arrow, but it still possessed magical qualities. Interesting, but he did not understand what the point was. While tracing mystic codes was an impressive feat, Kiritsugu already knew that particular fact. There was no point in showing it to him, if it wasn't reinforced or…

"Trace on!" The arrow was pumped with prana to the point that Kiritsugu thought it would break from overload, but it didn't. The projectile that had been nothing, but a piece of wood and some metal had been reinforced until he doubted anything other than a mystic code could destroy it.

Kiritsugu held his hands out and took the arrow. This could definitely pierce metal, even steel might be ripped into with the right firing mechanism. He glanced up at Shirou. The resigned look was gone and had been replaced with a smile, a true smile.

Kiritsugu spoke. "Does this mean you accept becoming my pupil? Not as a magus, but as the Magus Killer?" He gestured to the deadly arrow in his hands.

"Yup." Shirou said. "Teach me everything you know! Though with you getting old and senile there might not be that much left, old man." He laughed. After a few seconds Kiritsugu joined him.

"Haha, perhaps, but I know enough to beat you to the ground with the Torashinai next time we spar." Shirou's paling face would be remembered for the rest of his life.

**AOB**

_June 27, 1996_

Shirou had known this would happen. He had known that something like this would happen. He should have expected something like this to happen.

In front of him were several books, all about a single subject: Archery.

To explain what he meant when he thought that he should have expected it, we have to go back to before Kiritsugu had decided to teach the ways of the Magus Killer. They had decided to test the limits of Shirou's tracing by replicating as many weapons as possible. Swords, lances, shields, spears, knives, axes and maces had all been replicated almost perfectly, especially swords. It was when they came to more modern weaponry that they encountered a problem.

Shirou couldn't use guns.

He couldn't use them. Whatsoever, at all, end of story. He could hold them and pull the trigger, but his very being made it impossible to aim and shoot. The feeling of trying to aim a gun was like trying to focus on your own blind spot while drunk. Even holding it and pulling the trigger was difficult for him. All he could do was fire it in the general direction of the target and hope he didn't hit an innocent person.

It was the same for all modern firearms. Handguns, carbines, assault rifles, sniper rifles and shotguns, they were all pretty much useless even if he used structural grasp until his head pounded from overexertion. So far he had managed to use two guns (the Beretta his father had shown him and a shotgun) in total and both of them had been used by his father who had poured plenty of time and effort into the firearms and even then his aim had been horrible and his handling horrendous at best. The only reason he could use them was probably because they were closely tied to his father, the man who raised him.

Of course this brought forth questions that needed to be answered. Why couldn't he use normal guns? Any normal human being could use one, it was one of the reasons why it was almost impossible to become a heroic spirit these days so why couldn't Shirou? The answer had come from Kiritsugu who had likened it to the problem he had with fixing machinery. Kiritsugu couldn't, due to his origin, handle delicate machinery like a car or a motorcycle. Sure he could drive them, but he couldn't fix them or upgrade them personally. His origin made it impossible due to its cut and bind-methods. As soon as he had said that they both realized it. Shirou's origin was sword, the antithesis to gun. For a sword to wield a pistol or a weapon similar to it, would the same as wolf being hunted by the rabbit or the eagle being devoured by the mouse; inconceivable and utterly ridiculous. The fact that Shirou had managed to utilize two modern firearms was a smaller miracle, but considering the fact that both were made for medium range and one had little power in the rounds while the other had limited ammunition might have had something to do with it. There had been duels under similar circumstances when flintlock pistols had just been introduced that actually had honour in them so that made his two exceptions slightly more understandable though no less useless.

But this still left a large hole in Shirou's arsenal. How would Shirou take down an enemy several hundred meters away from him if his opponent could outrun him? A handgun had limited range even if he could turn it into a mystic code, something which was practically impossible and wasteful to the point of idiocy considering the lack of any real potential, and that was if he could actually aim with them. Larger rifles might make it possible, but Shirou could not use them beyond bashing his opponents head in with them. In the end, both of them had been slightly disappointed in the results at the end of day. Shirou had wanted to emulate his father in his use of weaponry, but his very soul had made it impossible.

Kiritsugu had spent most of the time he had available to think of a way to overcome this gap in weaponry when Shirou had mentioned offhand that he had joined the archery club in school since Taiga had been in charge of the kendo club. This had apparently reminded him of the time when he had discovered Shirou's Origin and Element. How he had thought a bow would fit Shirou better than a sword since they are fired from a distance, something Kiritsugu preferred over close-combat any day.

That might have been one of the reason his last test had been reinforcing arrows. Firing normal arrows with a mystic code would have been less effective than using an ordinary sniper so arrows with mystical properties would bridge that gap, with the reinforcement just being the tip of the iceberg.

While Shirou was glad he had a weapon meant for long-distance fighting now, it also meant he had to learn how to use it effectively. While Japanese archery, also known as Kyudo, was well-established across japan and it did help his form and accuracy, most of it was based on Zen meditation and didn't have very much in combat training. Add the fact that the traditional Japanese bow used in clubs was the Yumi, a bow over two meters tall, and the training received from the Kyudo club didn't seem as helpful as it used to. That meant he had to improvise in order to overcome that weakness. Hence the books Kiritsugu had given him to read instead of sparring as they usually did on their weekends. The book he had picked up first had the title "The English longbow: Origins, creation and uses." It described the first time the western bow had been recorded and how to make one. In Shirou's opinion, the English bow suited his size better than the Japanese bow. While he had more experience with the yumi, he also knew he could not use one correctly in a combat situation. The shorter Hankyu might work for him, but he had no idea on how to make one and it didn't give him the `punch´ his dad wanted.

His thoughts drifted back to his lessons. A mystic code was said to be more powerful if the user had created it himself. It was a theory that had drifted down the centuries from when heroes used their weapons with pride and told everyone how they were made. Some heroes had been gifted with their weapons, making the point slightly mute, but several legends told of how weapons forged by the hero's own hands were powerful enough to smite armies. And while the stories would be nothing but just stories alone, there were several proofs that supported it. One was the "growth ring"-method. It stated that doing something over and over again would eventually add up to something more than just the added amount. In other words, a simple act, performed several times, had mystical effects. That's one of the reasons why such a theory was still being considered and it was one of the reasons Shirou did not simply go out and buy a compound or composite bow.

Unlike Kiritsugu, Shirou possessed pride in his work. When his father was working, he would lose all emotions and fall into a robotic routine. Shirou on the other hand, took pride in his cooking, martial arts, designing and repair work. He felt a joy helping people and seeing their gratitude on their faces. It was that pride that stopped him from taking the easy way out and buying his new mystic code. His first code had already been built and he had just repaired and modified it. This would be a project on a whole other scale and dimension. He would have to craft a mystic code from scratch, using his tools to create the parts to begin with.

He would use all he knew to do it.

…but he would have to know how to do it first. Realizing that, he opened the book and searched for the part that showed how to make a bow. Finding it, his eyes widened at the large text written with extremely small letters. Looked like it would take a while.

**AOB**

_August 25, 1996_

It was finally time! Despite the pile of books he had to read and the practice required, the wait was finally over. It was time for him to build his own bow.

He had read the documents and books Lili had brought over on his request. They were about the legendary weapons and how they were made. How the methods had strengthened the material and the symbolism they represented had enchanted the tools they forged. The magi who wrote them had all agreed that there was a mystical quality to a code a magus had spent a large amount of effort and time in crafting, like the saying of blood, sweat and tears.

Unfortunately Kiritsugu had not seen it that way. For Kiritsugu, a tool was a tool. No matter how efficient or effective, a tool for murder could never elevate itself above that level. Even humans could be tools for furthering a man's goals. Therefore he could not understand how a weapon could be more than a simple object. He could never view his Thompson Contender more than a convenient weapon.

In fact, for the first time since Kiritsugu had adopted him they finally had an argument. Kiritsugu thought he was wasting his time trying to craft a bow that would be significantly weaker than a modern compound bow. Shirou had disagreed and actually stood up to his father, a first in his known lifetime. Shirou thought the mystical properties of the weapon would overcome the technological advances while Kiritsugu argued that if the weapon even did acquire blessed or cursed properties its performance would still be weaker than a compound bow or even a composite bow since Shirou didn't know how to use horns or sinew in the bow. In the end, they had to compromise. Shirou would make his own bow as he wanted, but if it didn't carry any effects as he thought he would, they would buy a professional bow and he would reinforce it with runes. Shirou was less than happy at the insinuation that his own father doubted the skills Shirou had honed with tireless effort.

So he had created a plan to ensure that his bow would be a mystical code all on its own without runes. A weapon blessed by effort would be great, but he decided to take it to the next level.

That was why he was in the forest and looking for a yew tree. Why yew? The traditional English longbow was made out of either elm or yew, though they also used ash when yew became scarce in the fourteenth and the fifteenth century. But coming across the same trees as the ones used in England and northern Europe was almost impossible, unless you knew where to look.

Fuyuki city was divided into two smaller towns. The older part is called Miyama City and the new city is called Shinto. However, the older city is also separated into parts. When the immigrants from other countries settled in Fuyuki the majority gathered together in one part. That part is comprised of western-style houses and mansions, though the architectural design was not the only thing they brought across the waters. When they deforested the area they replaced the Japanese forests with European plants and trees. Apparently they had thought the flora was to Japanese for them, despite the fact that they used it to build their homes and warm their houses. For Shirou though, it worked to his advantage. A large part of the settlers were English and had brought elm and yew with them and the forest surrounding the western section was crawling with European trees. The only problem was finding one with the right requirements.

In order to craft a good bow, the wood would have to be without deformations. This included scars from weather and falling trees, branches, termite infestations and curves. This meant that despite the large quantity of yew, finding the right tree was becoming quite the task. Most of the trees he had found bore scars of wind and wildlife; he even saw a clearing which had been destroyed from something like a thunderstorm. His patience was running thin and he had to keep himself from swearing. He felt that if he did, then the blessing of the bow would be lessened or undone. He didn't know why he felt that, he just did.

He had prepared for such an event of course. The forest was large and he knew it might take time. That was why he had waited until a long weekend before he went out. In his duffle bag he had borrowed from his dad was enough food and water for five days and he had spare clothes with him. For a normal person this wouldn't be enough to go camping in the woods, but for a magus specializing in projection and tracing, it was more than enough. Anything else, such as map, compass, tent, sleeping bag, _knives, axes_ and other equipment could simply be traced or in worst case scenario, manufactured on the spot.

He had been in the woods for over three hours when it started to rain. He had projected an umbrella and a waterproof poncho as a precaution. Even if he never got sick, the feeling of being utterly wet to the bone was not pleasant. The sun was setting behind the mountain when he found the perfect bow material. It was a yew tree with a large trunk that sprouted into several smaller branches. Though to simply call it large would be an understatement. The trunk itself could fit a medium-sized car with room to spare. He didn't think it was possible for a tree to grow so large in merely three-hundred years. He had to walk around it several times before he could find a proper piece for a bow. He was about to cut one of the branches on the outside off when he noticed an opening in the trunk, revealing it to be hollow. He wouldn't have paid it any attention if he hadn't all of a sudden smelled an incredible aroma coming from the small opening.

Shirou was a magus, but in his heart he would always be a man of taste and cuisine. His automatic response to something had always been cooking ever since he discovered the joys of blending several ingredients together in order to find the great prize that was food. In the two and a half years he had been alive, he had prepared meals delicious enough that Raiga, a man wealthy enough to own several cooks, had suggested he become a professional chef. He was proud of his accomplishments in the kitchen and anybody who had tasted anything from his menu would say he had every right to be.

That was why the scent that was making his stomach growl and mouth water almost drove him insane enough to jump straight into the dark hole which was hiding the source of such otherworldly fragrance. As it was, he merely hurried to the spot in order to peer down the hole. It was dark, too dark to see anything. Fortunately, he could remedy that in a second. He used a firespell to create a small flame in his hands to illuminate the small wooden cavern and aimed it down the crevice.

Despite the new light he could not see the soured of the mouthwatering fragrance. He decided to climb up the tree in order to stick his head in. He was slightly more successful in looking down the darkness as he could view the sides more than he could before, but he couldn't see what was beneath him. Considering he couldn't see anything that could be so appetizing in the corners he climbed even higher on the trunk on the tree in order to stick his chest inside.

Though now that he thought about it, sticking most of his body inside a dark hole when he was holding onto nothing, but wet bark might not be such a bright idea. It was too late though as he lost his grip and he fell through the opening and was knocked out when the back of his head hit the ground.

**AOB**

When he woke up, the rain had stopped. It was quiet, almost too quiet for a late summer evening. Though considering that the sun was shining through the hole he had fallen through, it might not be evening anymore.

He was up on his feet in seconds, two nameless daggers in his hands. He took in his surroundings and checked his back to ensure no enemies were around. It was a strange action for a child, but when you're raised by the Magus Killer your entire life is strange.

When he had assured himself that he was alone and safe, he lowered his guard and let the swords disappear. He didn't feel threatened by the place, but his pounding head made his Magecraft tricky to use. He checked his watch. The date said _half past twelve, August twenty-sixth, four hundred fifty-seven._ Good, he had only been out for a day. He had been worried that the impact had knocked him out for more. It was strange though, he had never been unconscious for more than a few hours from hits to the head so how could he have been asleep for so long?

He decided to put such thoughts away while he ate some breakfast. He hadn't eaten in over a day so he was quite hungry. He was about to take out his lunchbox when the same smell comes back. He took one look at his own homemade food before putting it back in his bag and following the scent.

It seemed that whatever it was that had smelled so deliciously had been taken out of the tree trunk while he had been unconscious because the fragrance was no longer inside the tree. Instead it was coming from the outside through the hole he had fallen through. He glared at the opening, as if it was its fault that he had slipped. He climbed out of the hole and saw the sun shine down on him.

But it didn't feel like it normally did. When the sun was out he would get a warm feeling on his skin where the beams hit, but this sun was different. It shone, yes, but it was a cold light. As if the wind had frozen the warmth in the bright beams and only brought frost with it. He shivered; there was something wrong with this place. He should leave as soon as possible and forget about the scent.

Yeah, that's what he would do, he would inhale the scent some more then leave. Even if the smell he had found unlike any other…

All right, it would be for the best if he just found the scent and left it alone. No point in bringing it with him, it was too dangerous. No matter how good the fragrance was…

He had made up his mind; he would find the delicious scent and bring it with him. It was the least he could do after coming this far and getting knocked out.

He jumped off the tree and took a deep whiff, but shivered when the icy air entered his nostrils. Where was it coming from? He had never encountered something like this before. Was it the result of planting a European forest in Japanese soil? Nah, couldn't be, there were plenty trees from other countries in Fuyuki. Was it global warming? Nope, it was getting colder, not warmer. Was he having a nightmare? He pinched himself and felt the pain, so no…

Did he fall down a rabbit hole and enter a world where the land is ruled by a queen wearing red who ordered everyone to be executed by decapitation?

He hoped not…

He followed that mesmerizing scent into a clearing and laid eyes on a woman. She was sitting by a tree, the roots rising from the ground serving as a perfect bench. At her side was a large black dog. It was sleeping with its head on her feet. In her lap was a weave basket, the kind you have when having a picnic. She was petting the dog with one hand and picking something up from the inside of the basket with the other.

When he came closer he managed to see her face, but was too stunned to move when he saw her beauty. She had dark red hair, as red as blood, that flowed down her back. Her hair was straight and reached her hips. Her eyes were a bright green and made Shirou think she had a very strong will, the way they sparkled with untold wisdom. Though they also gave him the impression hiding a sad past, a feeling he could not relate to. She wore a black dress that covered her assets, which were quite voluptuous, not that Shirou would think of that. The dress was made of some kind of black silk and lace as it cloaked most of her body in complete darkness, but her arms, legs and cleavage were covered with black lace. Around her neck was an elegant necklace. It was the kind you'd expect a queen to wear as it covered her neck in a weblike pattern. Though it did not look like silver. The dull colour reminded him more of iron.

When she noticed him standing there, her eyes widened. They both stared at eachother, both not knowing what to do. Shirou had no idea why the otherworldly beauty was surprised by him, but it probably had something to do with the sun and its icy warmth. He tried to move, but his body told him that if he did then he would break the standoff and the chance to admire her exquisite features.

The moment was broken when the dog nudged her leg. She turned her head towards the canine and stared at it. The dog stared back. A moment passed as message was passed from the dog to the woman. _`Why did you stop scratching me? ´_ It seemed to ask.

She turned back towards Shirou, though her hand had resumed scratching the black wolf-like dog behind the ears. This time Shirou had been prepared for it. When the allure of the woman hit him, he was able to shrug most of it off and wasn't completely frozen by her stare. He did feel a shiver going down his spine though when their eyes locked. Like someone was slowly tracing his spine with their fingers, but only the tips were touching his skin.

The woman finally opened her mouth and spoke.

"W-who might you be, young traveler?"

Her voice, while graceful and refined, wavered when she spoke, as if she had used it in a long time. Her eyes were focused on him, as if he left her sight he would disappear forever. Whenever made the slightest movement her body trembled, giving her the impression a desperate predator, pouncing on her unsuspecting prey. Shirou did not like that look, but found the expression on her face lovely nonetheless.

"I'm Shirou, Emiya Shirou. Umm, what's your name?" he asked timidly. She was looking at him with eyes far too eager for having just met him.

When he responded to her question and said his name, her expression changed. From a shocked appearance to a hopeful smile, but there was something hidden in her features. There was pleasure in her smile; some kind of sad delight was evident on her visage.

"Shirou? That's not a very common name, is it? Where are you from, Shi-i-ro-u?" She dragged out his name, relishing in the very act of pronouncing it. Her breaths had become fine mist in the cold air, but she did not show any reaction to the icy wind blowing, despite her lack of decent clothes. Shirou was not an expert when it came to expensive fabrics, but he knew enough to tell that silk and lace are not ideal for autumn and winter temperatures.

"It's not THAT common, but it's not uncommon. I know at least two other kids who have the same name in my school. And it's common knowledge that when someone gives you their name, you give your own." Shirou said, feeling a little annoyed that she didn't even introduce herself. Just because she was really, really, REALLY pretty didn't give her the right to be rude. Yoshida had taught him taught that much at least.

The woman, who had looked positively euphoric until now, looked stunned. She had looked as if she had expected total control, but had instead gotten a polite demand instead. From a child no less. She sputtered a reply.

"M- my name? would you- I mean , w-why would you want to know that? It's not something, I mean I-GURKLE!…" It seemed she had been unable to construct an answer for the boy. She stammered over her own words and, in her haste, she had bitten her own tongue. It was a strong contrast from the woman she had formerly appeared as. Before she had held herself as a queen, elegant and charismatic, though a little rusty it appeared. No though she looked like a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Shirou fought down his giggle. The woman may appear cute, but there was no denying the allure she possessed.

"Because it manners? Why wouldn't you give your name when you're having a conversation?" he asked, as if it was common sense.

…wait, it WAS common sense.

She looked uncomfortable for a second, squirming in her seat by the tree, her face in a cute frown. Then she finally gave in.

"It's… No, okay, it's… Wyrda, my name that is…" She finished weakly. For someone who acted like an almighty queen desired by all just a few minutes ago, she sure looked meek now. Thinking that, Shirou decided to take pity on her.

"Okay, Wyrda. But is it alright if I call you that? Don't you have a family name I can call you by? Though I actually prefer if I can use your given name. It's easier to talk to you that way." He said. All she did was to nod slowly, a smile shining brightly on her face. He continued.

"Anyway, since you asked what I'm doing here I might as well answer. I'm here to build a bow. Well, I was supposed to build a bow, but I was looking for a yew tree to make one of. I found a good branch, but there was this really nice scent so I decided to find what smelled so good. Then I tripped and passed out. Next thing I know, I'm in this place with that weird sunlight. That reminds me, how are you not cold? I'm wearing normal clothes with a poncho over that, but I'm still freezing!" He held his arms around him to get his point across that it was really cold.

Wyrda, for her part, looked even more shocked. She gestured to the field, indicating that she meant the air. "You feel it too? The cold, I mean." She asked.

He gave her his best `Duh! ´-impression.

"Of course I do. It's freezing out here. Can we make a fire or something? Can I make my tent here?" he asked. Now he was really starting to shiver. The wind was picking up speed and rain was starting to fall.

She snapped out of her moment of puzzlement and quickly answered. "YES, YES... I mean, of course you may." She had forced her enthusiasm down at the end, but he could still see her eagerness for shelter.

Shirou started activating his circuits when he realized he was about to show a woman he never met before his Magecraft. What if she doesn't know about magic? He couldn't reveal it like that, his father would kill him! Then he realized that the woman he was with was most likely not human to begin with and she probably already knew what Magecraft was, if her mystical allure and the icy sun was any indication.

"Trace on!" He said as he felt the gun in his head fire. From nowhere, a tent kit appeared. The red and orange synthetic fabric clashing horribly against the green of the forest around them. He hurried to the bag containing the tent and ripped it open. When he had gone to the store to buy the tent he had used structural grasp in order to determine the best model to be used, but as it turned out, his tracing could create a copy that would last for days. As such there wouldn't be any reason for him to lug around a heavy tent. The only problem was erecting the tent once traced. If it had been just him who would be inside he would have chosen a small tent made only for sleeping in order to change time, but now that he had a guest that was no longer an option. So he had opted for a larger tent. The one he traced looked more like a small shed actually. It had high walls and could fit a family inside.

The larger a tent was, the harder it was to set it up. That was the rule for tents, but when someone can use structural grasp and instantly know the way it's meant to be used, it doesn't take that mush time. That was why within five minutes, a large tent stood beside the tree. They both hurried inside to get away from the pouring rain, though thankfully the trees around them protected the tent from the strongest winds.

Once inside he took a look around. There were no imperfections or flaws in his projection, but he had hurried the spell so it wouldn't hold for the maximum four days he currently had, but would disappear somewhere on the second day. That was still acceptable though. He wouldn't need it for more than a night so the extra time was unnecessary.

Wyrda was still looking around, staring at his simple use of Magecraft. He was pretty sure she was aware of magic since she had one a powerful magic trait, but her reaction was odd for someone who was just looking at one of the most basic of spells. It made him wonder what she was…

She focused on him again.

"You're a magus?" She asked him. Yep, she was definitely aware of magic.

"Yes?" He was unsure on how to answer. He had assumed she knew more than he did about it, but she was just as surprised as he was. It unsettled him.

"For a child you are quite interesting. When did you start learning magic? What are your specialties? What's your Origin? Or Alignment? What's your most advanced spell?" She started firing off question after question, as if she had been deprived of a conversation with a magus for years and this was making up for lost time. He had to wave his hands in front of her to stop the onslaught of inquiries.

"Wait, wait, wait! I can't answer if you won't let me!" It was as if he was the adult and she was the child. A child telling a grown woman to behave, what has the world come to? "I've been learning magic for little more eight months now and I can use projection and a few elemental spells like fire and wind. But shouldn't you tell me how you know about magic? And how come you're here in this place? What is _this place_ to begin with?" he asked her in turn. He needed some answers. This weather was not natural and even Shirou, with his less than perfect sense of danger, knew that this place was not safe for normal humans.

"I know about magic because I'm a magic user too. Or I was before. I can't use the arts anymore so I can't call myself that now." Her face lowered as she hung her head shamefully. For some reason Shirou could tell that she was suffering for what she did, but he thought that leaving her in a place like this was too much.

"Then do you want to come with me? I'm going to go back home after I found the stave for my bow, but you can come as well if you want." He told her. Her eyes snapped to focus on his. There it was again, the sad, hopeful look that told him she had spent more time here than her age suggested. He didn't know how he knew that, only that he could somehow tell the woman's feelings through her expressions. But as soon as the hope had entered her eyes, it disappeared. Instead she showed him a regretful smile.

"Unfortunately, I can't. I'm stuck here until I've paid my debt and that will probably take a long time. Longer than it will take for you to make your bow and leave, I'm afraid." She responded.

He sighed. Whatever she was, she was too stunning to wear a sad expression like that. To be honest, even as her sorrow filled her eyes, she was still the most bewitching creature he had ever met. He had little doubt there was any way her figure could ever be described as anything, but breathtaking.

"Then… how about I show you how to cook? I'm really good at cooking and I brought a lot of ingredients with me. My dad said I was wasting space with how much food I brought, but I said that it's impossible to waste space with good cuisine! Then he laughed and said I didn't know what cuisine meant. I said it meant good food and then he laughed even more!" His face developed a frown as he thought about it, but snapped out of it when he focused on Wyrda again. "So do you want to? I can get the supplies out right now." Wyrda was surprised by his enthusiasm it seemed as she froze and slowly nodded. She recovered from her shock before she smiled.

"If you want to, you're welcome to try. I've never had the talent for cooking nor did it interest me in the past so don't expect me to learn anything right away. Unless it's related to witchcraft or akin to it, then I'm afraid it's a wasted effort, Shirou." She informed him, reverting back to her noble persona. Though he could tell she was eager to try his cooking, if her cautious glances to his duffle bag were any indication.

He set down his bag on the ground and walked towards the middle of the tent. Larger tents like tipis were capable of having a fire inside thanks to the design. This was a good idea for Shirou as he liked the idea of cooking indoors when it rained. As such when Shirou had chosen a tent, he made sure that it had an opening in the middle where he could start a fire. He pulled away the synthetic fabric to reveal slightly moist grass, excellent for starting a fire over. The water ensured the fire didn't spread and cause a forest fire. If the grass had been dry, he would have had to use a water spell to dampen it. Now for some firewood.

He went out of the tent, tracing a new raincoat as his old one was dirty and the smell was less than pleasant. The tree Wyrda had been sitting next to was old and large, with plenty of branches that would make excellent firewood. It would be slightly damp, due to the fact that it was still attached to the tree, but if it had been lying on the ground it would have started rotting and wouldn't burn unless it was under extreme heat. He traced a battle axe, since he never took the time to look at a hatchet or fire axe, and started chopping the wood off from the tree. Once he had a small pile of logs at his feet he started chopping the logs into smaller pieces which he brought inside.

Wyrda had sat herself in the corner, watching him with an intense stare. She was drinking in his appearance with his every movement. The dog, who had once more put its head on her lap, was staring at him as well, but unlike before, now it was staring at him with caution and hostility. Was the dog intelligent enough to understand Magecraft? If so, he should be extra careful around the beast. The fangs on that thing could do some serious damage.

He put the smallest pieces of wood on the grass and uttered a small spell "Ignis" under his breath. The small wooden sticks ignited in a bright red and yellow flame and Shirou felt the heat emanating from it. He was also aware of the dog shuffling on the other side of the flame, as if it was preparing itself for an attack.

As he waited for the flames to grow hot enough he traced a large pot and a matching tripod to hold it over the flames. While doing it he watched Wyrda out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at his use of magic, a longing expression on her face. Every time he traced something, her eyes would sparkle and she would give an almost inaudible sigh. She looked mesmerizing with her crimson hair locks falling in front her face, giving her a wild beauty.

He shook his head. What was going on with him? He had never had these kind of thoughts before, so why now? She was beautiful yes, but this was getting ridiculous. He was eight years old, for Pete's sake! Why was he saying things about a woman no eighth year old should say and how did he even know what they meant?

He opened his duffle bag and brought out the ingredients. Oil, meat, vegetables, water, flour and other various substances used in food. He poured the some oil from a small bottle into the pot and was about to add the meat when Wyrda's shout of "Wait!" stopped him. He looked at her as she was picking something up from the picnic basket she had been holding all along. What she brought out made his stomach rumble.

It was the tantalizing scent he had been searching for. It had been inside the basked all this time, taunting him with its fragrance, but in the presence of Wyrda he had forgotten all about it. Now though he could appreciate the ingredient for what it was. It was some kind of smoked meat, capable of being eaten as it was or cooked even further. It was wrapped in a large leaf, larger than Shirou had ever seen on a tree in Fuyuki. The gloriously prepared ingredient had been sliced into several smaller slices, like the ones you put on a sandwich, but slightly larger.

"If you want to you can use this instead of what you brought with you. It's from a special kind of boar around here. If you eat it you're said to experience a taste so divine you'll never forget it." She said with a bright smile. Unlike the ones before this was the bewitching type of smile, the one lesser men would fall trap to in less than a second.

Although Shirou was no lesser man (technically he wasn't even a man yet), he had never come across such a rare A-rank ingredient before in his life. It took all of his might not to swipe the meat from her hands and throw it into the pot. In the end all he did was to give his innocent puppy-imitation and ask "Really? Are you sure?" Her confident and charismatic smile was the only response he needed before he took the aforementioned meat and dropped it into the oil. The sound of sizzling meat filled the tent as the delicious scent he had been chasing was transformed into a meal fit for a king. The end result was a stew made with carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, onions, meat and spices. Shirou had to admit he would have a hard time topping this dish even with his kitchen back home.

He started serving the stew into two bowls he had traced, but changed his mind and added another bowl. Ha kept one and gave the second to Wyrda and the third to the dog. If the dog was intelligent enough to recognize Magecraft then it was intelligent enough to appreciate good food. The dog took one look at the bowl then looked at Shirou. Shirou stared back. Then the dog dug into the food with surprising ferocity. Shirou smiled and ate his own food.

Wyrda on the other hand had been watching him. When he had been serving the food, she hadn't even registered taking her own serving. All she had been thinking about had been seeing him eat. When he took the first bite, she gained a large smile on her face. This was not the bewitching smile, or the seductive smile, but the smile you got when a plan is successful. She then turned her attention to her own bowl and took a small bite with her spoon that Shirou had thoughtfully supplied.

Shirou saw her eyes widen and a small blush spread across her face. It lasted a second before she tore into her dinner with glee. It seemed his plan to overwhelm her with his cooking had gone off without a hitch.

Unknown to the two of them, they had both thought their plan had succeeded.

They didn't know that only one had been a real success.


	4. Chapter 4

_Archer of Black_

_Chapter four: What time is it?_

**AOB**

When the word bow comes up, the majority tends to thinks about the English longbow. This might have something to do with Robin Hood and his band of thieves. But make no mistake there are plenty of different bows of shapes and sizes.

There are longbows, composite bows, reflex bows, recurve bows and compound bows. These bows can also be divided into several categories. Self-bow, laminated bow and Holmegaard bow are few of these categories. It's easy to get lost in the different names and styles.

The reason Shirou had chosen the English longbow was quite simple.

The English longbow was normally made of yew, an uncommon wood in japan. The forests in England on the other hand were large and plenty with the tree, until the fifteenth century that is. They also had another reason for being used as bows. Archers, at least those capable of using Magecraft, wanted the blessings of the nature spirits. Yew had a strong connection to death and thus spirits. Both the Celtic and Christian religions used the yew as a way to connect with the dead. So when an archer wants the greatest weapon with him in battle, he would of course choose the greatest base material. Hence the yew was chosen.

What the archers didn't know was that their choice of using bows with connection to the dead automatically gave them a connection to a certain kind of people they did not normally want to contact; the Fae.

The Fae were a strange folk. They were said to be the spirits of the dead and had a phobia of cold iron. So a bow would be their perfect weapon. But people were afraid of the Fae, why wouldn't they be? They hid themselves from the world and were users of strange, but powerful magic. There were stories of Fae kidnapping women and men to keep in their world as pets. They would then let them go after a few days had gone by for them, but in the real world decades had passed and the captives would die upon returning to their homes.

Had Shirou been a normal person, he would have avoided making any sort contact with the Fae. The problem was that Shirou was not a normal person and as such he wanted to make contact with them.

The longbow he wanted to make was a self-bow. A self-bow is a bow made from a single piece of wood. Unlike composite bows, which are made from wood, horn, bone and sinew, a self-bow does not require specialized tools. A self-bow can be made with an axe and knife, while the composite bow needs several other factors. It is also better for countries where humidity is a problem as the animal glue used in composite bows would weaken in contact with water. The time it took to craft a bow was also a major difference. It took months for the composite bow to dry, while the self-bow could be dried in a week if circumstances were willing.

And while the English longbow was quite long, sometimes over a meter and a half, it could be customized to be shorter, at the expense of the released arrow's power. Shirou was quite young and therefore short, but he had no intention of making the bow shorter or weaker.

He would make the strongest bow, and with the blessings of the Fae, it would become one of his greatest treasures.

That was why he did not scream in panic or lose himself in fear when Wyrda told him he had entered the Fae-world.

Instead he started doing a small victory dance while laughing in excitement.

"Why are you happy? This place is dangerous! Haven't you heard the stories? If the Fae see you they will catch you and turn you into one of their pets." Wyrda exclaimed, most likely trying to instill a sense of danger into the boy. Shirou for his part didn't seem to think what she said mattered that much.

"Yeah, but I wanted a Fae-bow from the beginning! All I have to do is get a Fae to bless the tree I make the bow from, ensure that I don't get captured, cut a branch from the tree and get out of here. This is even better than what I had been hoping for." Apparently the possibility of being enslaved by the fairies didn't register as a threat to the boy who had finally stopped his dance when Wyrda addressed him.

"Better than you… Listen! Fae are dangerous! They're not people you can reason with. Even the Seelie court isn't to be trifled with! You think you can just… just go up to them and ask them to bless your weapons? That's just stupid! You'll get yourself killed, or worse, enslaved!" She had by now lost her image of calm and was waving her hands around as if that would get her point across. It didn't.

Shirou was not convinced. "I know just asking them to make my bow a fairy weapon is stupid, but who said I was just going to ask them? I was going to ask them if there were any chores or tasks I could do in payment. That's one of the reasons I went in the summer, when the Seelie court is ruling. If I made a bow in the forest in the summer then the Seelie court would notice it and the odds of it gaining magical properties would increase. If I had waited until winter then the Unseelie would kill me before I could make a bow. I know they're dangerous, but this is my only chance. How many humans can claim to have visited the Fae world twice?" His previously childish outburst had disappeared and had been replaced with a thinking expression. "If I don't try my luck now, I would probably regret it forever. Besides, Fae usually took pity on children, didn't they? Unless they replaced it with a changeling that is…"

Wyrda stared at him like he was crazy. Most likely he didn't seem like such a nutcase the night before, so why was he trying to contact some of the most dangerous and unpredictable races in the world? Even if the Seelie court was the lesser of two evils, they were still known for abducting humans and enslaving them. The only reason the Seelie court was seen as the kinder of the two was because they wouldn't hurt you if you did treat them with respect and left them alone. The Unseelie court thought making humans their slaves was a gift.

"You can't expect them to help you just because you ask nicely and try to offer your services. It would just anger them and make them want to hurt you. In the first place, why do you require their blessing at all? Any yew tree in the Fae world would suffice if you want a bow with Fae origin. To ask a Fae for their help would endanger you for little reason." She told him, trying to make him see reason.

He turned to her and she could see the gears turning in his head. His eyes focused on nothing, showing he was deep in thought.

"So you're saying there wouldn't be any difference in making a bow out of any tree here and a bow made out of a blessed tree? No difference at all?" he asked her.

She stopped herself from answering immediately. There would most likely be a difference. All forests in the Fae world were enchanted to a certain degree. Making a bow from any of them would result in a bow stronger than any of human make and more durable to boot. But if pureblooded fairy blessed the tree or the bow it would imbue the bow with a purpose or characteristic. It would vary depending on the Fae he asked, but a blessed tree was better than a normal one.

"Well, there would be a difference, but not one you should risk life and limb for. Why would you need something like that to begin with? You can craft a purpose into the bow on your own without the need of a fairy. You could just take the stave and go." Her voice had lost its demanding point and had taken on a more pleading tone. "Listen, if the bow means that much to you then I could bless it."

Shirou looked at her liked she had grown a second head. Sure, he had known she wasn't human and she might have been a fairy from the way she looked and the effect she had on him, but she did not act like he had expected form the Fae. The Fae were powerful spirits without any human sentiments at all. Wyrda looked and acted like a human for the most part. If he used wood from the Fae world then the blessing would have to be from a Fae. Otherwise the spells might clash or cancel eachother out.

"Can you do that? You don't look like a Fairy?" he asked. True, he had never met a fairy before, but he had studied the texts. Fairies can be of any form, but they can take on the form of human imaginations. She might be a fairy who manifested from his own mind, but he had never seen a woman who looked like her before.

She looked affronted at his question. "Of course I can! Giving my personal blessing to a spirit tree is something I've been able to do since I was less than a century." She proudly proclaimed. Her chin up and back straight, she looked every bit as noble as the noble families Lili had told him about. Even the pose she was currently in was something he had imagined they would use.

"But you told me yesterday that you couldn't use magic at all. What's up with that?" he asked her.

"Using magic and giving a blessing are two different things. One requires the use of prana in the form of Od while the other requires the use of Mana. We are in the world of Fae right now and the very air you breathe is made of Mana. Even if you do find a pureblooded fairy to bless the tree, it wouldn't make any difference from what you would get if I did it." She said confidently.

"But what is the difference between you and the Fae?" He asked her.

"Hmm… Nothing much really. Our origins may differ, but our essence is the same. I'm about as much Fae as any of the famous ones you've heard of."

"Huh… Okay then! What are you going to do about the bow then?" He asked eagerly. His enthusiasm about getting his own Fae bow was starting to resurface now. All those hours spent reading about bows and theirs different varieties, all those times he had to practice archery at the Kyudo club, they were all going to pay off now!

"First of all, making a Fae weapon is not something you just make. I could enchant any branch you find, but without proper tools and materials it wouldn't be half as powerful as it could be." She said with a thinking pose.

"You need tools and materials to give your blessing?" He asked, perplexed. "I thought all you had to do was give a long speech about love and justice, do a few elaborate movements and that would be it. There wasn't anything about tools in the texts."

She gave him a look that said `_Which one of us knows how to enchant things? ´. _"I doubt you'll find anything about Fae rituals in any human books. We don't use tools like knives or hammers. Iron and steel does not work well with our magic so we have developed magic tools of our own to aid us in our craft. Though most of them are for crafting of the weapon itself, not the enchantment so you don't need to worry about that. All you need to do is collect a branch of the leafless hazel tree a few miles away from here and to carve a wooden bowl from this ash tree. It should not be too much of a task for a magus of your talents." She said as she sat down on the old tree once more, an expectant smile on her face.

Her smile didn't last long however when Shirou didn't move from his spot. "What are you waiting for? You have your task, now go and complete it. We don't have all day!"

"What task?" He asked her. "You didn't even tell me where the tree is! How am I supposed to find one tree in a whole forest of them?" He gestured to the trees around them. "At least tell me which direction it is and what is looks like!"

She sighed, the kind of sigh you make when are suffering from a severe headache. "Fine, it appears your knowledge of the more noble arts in life is not as fulfilling as I had hoped. If you can't even do a simple location spell then I guess I will have to help you find it." She plucked a leaf from the ash tree and tied a string around it. She then walked towards Shirou and tied the other end of the string to his jacket.

Despite the fact that there was no wind the leaf floated in midair before moving in one direction away from him. It ignored him when he touched it as it was completely pointing away from him.

"The leaf is from an ash tree and it hates Hazel trees with a passion. The tree you seek is the mightiest tree in the forest and as such small leaves such as this one avoid it as if their lives depended on it. As long as you go in the opposite direction of the leaf then you will find it. Understand, Shirou? Go in the opposite direction of the leaf and bring me back a branch from the leafless hazel tree. Oh and while you're at it, go find the bow stave you've been looking for. " She said with a smile. Once more her smile was that of a teacher encouraging a student.

Though he would never admit it, he was confused by the speed her expressions could shift. One minute she was happy, the next annoyed and the third she could be happy again. Was this the behavior of the Fae or was she simply just strange?

"Okay, I'll see you soon!" With that he was on the way, half running half walking in the opposite direction of the flying leaf.

Wyrda waved him off, her eyes focused on the boy slowly leaving her view. Only when he had entered the forest on the opposite side of clearing did the benevolent smile on her face disappear to leave way for a victorious grin.

"Tehe… Hahahahahah! Can you believe that kid? He thinks I'm going to help him out of the goodness of my heart! I always knew the humans are foolish, but this is a bit too much even for them!" The Woman Called Wyrda barked out between fits of laughter.

The dog next to her looked her over and as if to bark at the laughing woman it opened it mouth. But instead of the bark of a dog, what was heard from the canine creature was the voice of a man.

"Are you sure about this, my Lady? Your sisters won't sit quietly and watch you break free. They go together again once they find out what has happened." The voice of the large black dog was rough and haggard. As if the owner had a disease of the throat and fought for every word.

The woman scoffed at his words, her previous façade forgotten entirely. Not even a trace of the elegance and nobility was left and the expression she wore now was one of utter contempt and disgust, an ugly form if it had ever been seen by anyone around. "As if! They are too occupied by their own domains to notice anything. They fell from grace a long time ago and never had the courage to regain their former place. Verdandi might notice what I'm planning, but she won't be able to stop it until after it is done. Skuld is too busy observing the possibilities to care and even if she did care about the future it wouldn't matter if one boy disappeared. Did you look at him? He's a failure as a magician! I'm almost embarrassed to require his help!"

The dog continued to stare at the Fae, though the facial expression never changed. "Nevertheless my Lady, I think it would be for the best if you did not do this. The ramifications of your actions could echo beyond the world of Fae and into the human world. If that does come to pass then both Verdandi and Skuld would band together to set things right." Her canine companion warned.

The Woman Called Wyrda scoffed at the black dog's advice before her eyes narrowed. "For centuries we've been trapped in this place and now that we have a chance to escape you tell me to let it go? Whose side are you on exactly? Don't tell me Verdandi finally won you over with her promises of power? You and I both know she isn't one to keep her promises!"

The large dog did not respond to the woman's accusations, but lowered its head onto its paws to rest. The Woman Called Wyrda frowned at its lack of response and a "Tch!" escaped her mouth. Though she did sit down on the root of the tree after a while, her glare directed towards her canine companion never receded.

**AOB**

"Bye! See ya later!" Shirou yelled as he walked away with his bowstave over his shoulder. The hazel tree he had searched for had been easy to find with the enchanted leaf Wyrda had given him. It had been enormous even for the Fae standard. The fact that not even a single leaf was left on its branches did give invoke a feeling of dread, as if its very existence was malevolent. The grass around it had been dry and dead and the other trees were at closest twenty meters away. Whatever that tree was, it was not something Shirou wanted to be near for long. He chopped of a branch off and was on his way back to Wyrda, though he made sure to keep his hands away from the sap dripping from the damaged parts of it. The hazel tree had somehow poisoned the ground around it and he didn't want to take any chances about what the poisonous part about it was.

While he carried the hazel branch he had cut off he passed a yew tree on the way. Like all trees in the Fae world it was a humongous specimen so cutting off a large branch as thick as his thigh was didn't make much difference. It di become a bit of a problem when the yew branch and the hazel branch proved to be too heavy for the child's imperfect reinforcement, but with a bit if effort he was able to half lift, half drag the two large wooden logs. Although he did leave two large tracks wherever he went due to the logs dragging into the ground.

When he finally got back to the campsite he had to use his projections to carve a wooden bowl from the ash tree Wyrda had been sitting on. Let it just be said that Shirou would never ever say being a carpenter was an easy. His hands were covered with bandages before he had come halfway and he was sure he would have lost a finger or two if Kiritsugu hadn't taken the time to teach him that minor healing spell. Also note to self; never swing an axe one-handed if you're not sure the axe is not going to bounce away to strike your fingers.

After many spells and curses later he had a very ugly and rough wooden bowl in his savaged hands. Wyrda gave the bowl a look as if she was feeling physically ill from being in close contact with the carved container, but she took it nevertheless. She used a knife Shirou had traced for her to fill the bowl with sap from the hazel branch and crushed the leaves from the ash tree into the sap while chanting words he presumed were from the language of the Fae. The entire ritual lasted less than three minutes and contrary to what he had expected there were no lights or sparks involved. Just a woman filling a bowl with tree sap and saying a short speech in a language he did not understand. Quite disappointing, he thought. After the ritual was over Wyrda told him never to tell anyone about what had happened. He had agreed of course since no one would believe him anyway. After that he had left.

About two hours after he left through the tree he had entered the Fae world in the first place, he had arrived home. He left the yew branch in the workshop of their home and went to look for Kiritsugu. He found him taking a nap by the porch. Deciding to let his old man get his rest he went to get the textbooks about making a longbow.

Wyrda had said the trees in the Fae world are made from Mana and would adapt to the environment and the needs around it. Since Shirou had cut it down in order to make a bow and she had blessed it for that purpose, it should be ready to be carved into a bow immediately he cut it down. Tracing a knife made to carve wood he set out to make his new bow.

**AOB**

Kiritsugu woke up from his nap about five o'clock, still tired and bruised. The curse form Angra Mainyu was making him more tired by the day and it hurt to move his body even an inch. It even made small injuries larger than they should be. The day before he had dropped book on his toe and although it might have hurt normally, it wouldn't have turned his entire foot into a swollen blue bruise. It shouldn't have, but it did. Everywhere on his body he had developed large scars and wounds from insignificant injuries ranging from snubbed toes to splinters from poorly treated wood. He was almost unable to leave the house due to the danger he would be putting himself in. He had been able to spar with Shirou due to the child's inexperience and lack of skill, but it didn't seem like he would be able to keep that up for very long. Shirou was improving each day and his reflexes and speed were only outmatched by his enthusiasm to learn. Sparring with the boy might prove fatal for him from now on. It might be better to let Taiga take over his training.

Opening his eyes he was met with the sight of the door to the shed being wide open and the sound of someone working inside. Rising slowly, he winced when he felt his muscles and bruises protest against the strain, but he pressed on. None of his bounded fields had activated so it couldn't be an intruder even if they had found him. Was Shirou back already? He checked his watch. He left just six hours ago and it would have taken him several hours to get to the part of the forest he needed to be. Could he actually have made it back in order to start his bow already?

Walking through the door to the shed he saw a lot of wooden shavings. A LOT of wooden shavings. The entire floor was covered by millimeter thin wooden slices that could be mistaken for paper if it wasn't the colour of wood and not the usual white. As he neared the center of the room the shavings rose in height until his feet were covered by the wooden strips and he saw the cause of it.

Shirou was sitting by the desk in the room and was tying the bowstring to the ends of his new longbow. It was a large thing, perhaps a little too large for the small child and it gave off a feeling of prana. It was matte black in colour, most likely because Lili had taught him covering runes with black colour disguises the purpose of the spell. Interestingly enough, he had added what looked like a hand guard to the bow, perhaps in order to better aim or to protect his hand from potential magic attacks.

Shirou had still not noticed him; he was too focused on the task at hand. Tying the bowstring using the knot he had learnt from the book, he finished the last stage of the procedure. He cut off the unneeded thread and wrapped the last part around the wood to keep it from flying around. He picked up the bow from the table and tried stringing it back, only to fail as the strength required to use it was far above his natural ability. He tried once more using reinforcement and grinned when the string followed his hand back and didn't snap from the stress. He let go of the string and the sound of the thin wire slicing through the air reverberated within the workshop.

"Pretty good for something made in just under a few hours." Kiritsugu said from his place by the pillar.

Shirou jumped from the sound of his voice and almost dropped his newly made weapon. Thankfully he was able to grasp the wooden construct before it made contact with the ground.

"Dad! Wh… Err, when did you get here?" he asked his adopted father. Letting his heartbeat slow down he tried to take a calming breath.

"I just woke up and heard you working in here. I didn't think you'd be done so soon though. You've only been gone for a few hours and the bow is already done?" Kiritsugu asked with disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah, well I've been practicing how to make a bow for a while now and I found a really good tree from the start so all I had to do was bring it home and start carving away. I'm a little surprised at how easy it went. It was never this simple during practice, especially the runes." He answered mostly truthfully. He had been practicing and he did found a good tree. He was very surprised at how the entire went, but it was to be expected from a blessed Fae tree. It almost seemed to guide him when he was carving the runes into it and he never made a single mistake when cutting into it. He had made plenty of mistakes when learning how to use runes and he was still unable to really master the art of ancient runes.

"I think you underestimate your progress in that field. Runes are not very popular amongst noble families, partially due to the vulgar nature of the people who invented the system, but mostly due to the difficulty in mastering it. Your lack of talent in commanding mainstream Magecraft can be overcome by your talent in runes; otherwise we wouldn't be teaching you how to use it." Kiritsugu told him with and encouraging tone.

"Yeah, if you say so." Then he looked down at the bow in his hands. It was a monstrous thing and he didn't think he'd be able to use it without reinforcement for a long while. The wood itself was strengthened form the Fae enchantment on it and the fact that it was form the Fae world, but he had increased the effect with the runes used. Ehwaz for strengthening and several more to increase sturdiness and resistance as well as for useful effects on the arrows. It wouldn't be worn down from rain or fire, not if he had anything to say about it.

"Why don't we try to fire a couple of arrows for target practice? We still need to know if it is more powerful than a compound bow. You remember our deal right?" Kiritsugu said while gesturing for the door.

Shirou nodded, he remembered. If it proved weaker than the bow his father had enhanced with runes he would have to use the compound bow instead of his longbow he just finished. Of course he was certain his newly crafted bow would prove victorious, but it didn't remove the small sliver of doubt in his mind that maybe he would lose.

Steeling himself for the inevitable, he walked out of the shed.

The Emiya estate was a large house surrounded by large plots of land. While not at the level of a manor, it did have a lot of free space for the owner to utilize. Currently at the end of the backyard next to the wall was a large bale of hay with a painted target on it. It was nowhere near the limit of range for Shirou's bow or the compound bow so the winner would be declared by how far the arrows would sink into the hay.

Kiritsugu picked up the compound first and although he wasn't a professional archer, he was still able to aim and fire. The arrows he used were bodkin point arrows, made to penetrate the metal armour of medieval knights.

His father notched the arrow and pulled the string back in order to aim. After a second or so he let the arrow fly.

It flew through the air for a little less than a second before it burrowed into the target and sank about halfway into it. Quite far considering they had reinforced it to ensure it didn't just go through it instead. After retrieving the arrow and measuring the depth of the shot they concluded that the arrow could penetrate halfway if fired form a compound bow.

Now it was Shirou's turn. He traced a bodkin point arrow he had seen Kiritsugu hold and notched it. Unlike the compound bow, the traditional English longbow didn't have an arrow rest where the arrow would be held and go through. His however did have one in the form of a hand guard where he had made a slight curved edge in the side of the guard where the arrow would be. It was an unnecessary addition, but he thought it was useful at the time.

He notched the arrow and laid it to rest on the hand guard before he drew the string back. He had to reinforce his entire upper body to draw the bow back completely due to the stiffness of the bow, but he figured he could always train more until he could use it without Magecraft. He couldn't keep it drawn for long however because as soon as he reached maximum strength the string escaped his grip and the arrow broke through the air and into the bale of hay.

There was no competition. The arrow didn't sink into the hay halfway; it didn't sink into it at all. The moment the arrow touched the reinforced hay half of the bale exploded into a shower of grass and straws. It was more akin to a missile than an arrow. Both he and Kiritsugu stared at the clear act of destruction, wide-jawed. It took him several moments before he could gather the composure to collect the arrow, only to find it protruding business-end out of a tree a few meters away from the target. The arrow didn't break from immense strain of being fired from the Fae bow; he had reinforced it prior to firing it. It did however show several cracks along the shaft and the arrowpoint had chipped until looked like a serrated arrowpoint rather than a bodkin one.

He looked back to his father and waited for his judgment, despite the fact that he knew the answer. Kiritsugu had recovered his normal expression, but he was still staring a little warily at the bow in Shirou's hands. After a moment or two he sighed and started walking away from the yard, only to stop and turn to Shirou after a few steps.

"You still have to learn how to fire it properly." Was all he said before he went back into the house.

It might have been because he was tired and wanted to sleep that he rushed into the house…

Or it might have been because he didn't want to see Shirou's victory dance with his bow in the air and grin on his face.

**AOB**

_July 12, 1999_

The days passed slowly after that. His days were spent either studying for school, cooking or doing chores, tinkering with his Mystic Codes, undergoing physical training, learning Magecraft or getting the basics of tactics and strategy drilled into his eight year old skull. Not the life a child should have, but most children did not survive a sea of flame that should have left them scarred and crippled for life or dead. So he didn't really find any problem with it, except he didn't really have time to try out some of those new dishes he had learnt from the TV.

Roasting an entire pig over an open fire was just one of those things he never had the time to try.

Still there was one major change in his life. Kiritsugu died just after he turned eleven.

He had died in his sleep. There was no way he could have known his old man was dying. Just before he had gone to sleep they had sat on the porch and talked about Kiritsugu's dream of being a hero. Turns out he still had hopes of being one, it was just he didn't think he'd ever actually make it. Just the amount of people he killed would make it look like he was on the other side of that dream. Rather than a defender of Justice, Kiritsugu was more often than not considered to be a man of pure evil, a murderer without a conscience. While it was nowhere near true, one could not deny the actions he had taken even if it was to save many more.

_To save one person means not being able to save another. _

Perhaps that was why he was able to go peacefully in the end. With the promise that Shirou would become the hero he had never been able to be, he was given some reassurance that not everything he had done had involved murder of innocents.

It had been hard trying to adapt to a life alone. He was so used to Kiritsugu that a life without the childish man who couldn't cook for the life of him that he almost fell into a lesser coma. Alas that had been six months ago and he had finally started to get back into a normal rhythm. Taiga would come over for breakfast and dinner in the guise of coming over to check on him while Lili would sometimes fly over to give him lectures and drop off texts relating to alchemy, runes and Mystic Codes. He'd go to school, practice his archery, go home, go through his physical training and finally spar with Taiga. Kiritsugu had left him plenty of written journals on how to create and break through bounded fields as well as other tidbits of information Kiritsugu had gained during his life as the most efficient assassin ever to walk the earth.

He was walking home from his archery meeting (his senpai had asked him to show them his English longbow he had crafted and given them a lesson on how to create a bow) when he felt the stabbing pain in his chest. Unlike anything he had ever felt before, with the exception of the time he was being scorched alive in the Fuyuki fire, it was as if had fastened several fishing hooks around his heart and was tugging at the strings. He collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath, but his lungs wouldn't comply.

Crawling forward he hoped to find anyone who could help him, but it was late at night so the street was empty and dark. Quickly applying a healing spell on his chest area, fearing it to be something akin to a heart attack, he found it to have no effect. Suddenly the pain blossomed up again as a red light shone in front of him and pulled him in.

The moment he was absorbed into the light he blacked out, the pain becoming too much for him as he entered the blissfull abyss.

**AOB**

When he woke up he was in a forest. His ribs ached and the chance some of them were broken were quite high. The stones beneath him had done nothing to break his fall if the pain in his back was any indication. He tried to sit up, but his legs and lower back was protesting in response to his efforts so even though they might not be broken, they were definitely bruised. He finally achieved a sitting position and despite his pounding headache he forced himself to survey the situation as Kiritsugu had taught him.

His body was injured. His lower ribs were broken while his upper ribs were cracked. His legs and hips were cracked as well, but not at the same level of his ribs. Most of his body was covered in bruises and he might be suffering from internal bleeding if the pain in his gut was any indication. The headache and nausea were likely signs of dehydration, which meant he had been unconscious for at least a day. He had at least fourteen open wounds of which three looked to be infected judging by the smell and sight of the bloody tears in his skin. Furthermore his magic circuits were spent. He barely had enough for a few spells and even that was pushing it.

Focusing on his longbow, he was relieved to find it appear in his hand a second later. It was a sideeffect from the Fae enchantment. He could astralize the bow when he wanted to in a manner similar to what the heroic spirits could, according to Kiritsugu. Though not exactly the same it did come in handy if he ever needed it.

He also had no idea where he was or who had abducted him. He was in a forest, but it did not look like any Japanese forest at all. The forest was incredibly thick and the trees tall, a far cry from the forests near Fuyuki. It was also very cold, far too cold for July in Japan. Which meant wherever he was, he had been moved quite a bit north. His school clothes were drenched from rain and he shivered when the wind blew. He had to get out of the forest before he froze to death. Finding out who had kidnapped him was second in priority to his survival.

Getting up, he groaned at the sudden pain flaring up in his body. Casting a healing spell on his body a second time that day he was glad when the burning agony was reduced to a smoldering ache. The dehydration and infection he couldn't do anything against at the moment, but the immediate cuts and bruises could be dealt with, something he was learning to appreciate at the moment. Taking a step however, the pain in his legs reminded him that even though he had used a spell to heal the majority of his injuries, broken and cracked bones took longer to heal. Tracing a quarterstaff, he used it to relieve his legs from the majority of his weight when moving.

He must have been walking for over an hour before he found one of the things he was looking for: a small creek flowing with clear water. He collapsed next to the flowing water and practically shoved his head into the creek, drinking the life important fluid as if he life depended on it… well, technically his life did depend on it so his lack of manners could be excused.

After having drunk all he could on a single breath he came back up gulping for air. He was about to dunk his head back down when he heard a voice behind him.

"You know, last time we met you were much more elegant when drinking." The voice said. He spun around, swinging the staff into a defensive stance. He ignored the aching of his legs and ribs as they were forced to work while still healing.

The woman in front of him was familiar, very familiar. In fact, it didn't take more than a second before he recognized her crimson hair and emerald eyes. It was very hard to forget the very first Fae you meet in life, even more so if the Fae in question helped you make your own mystic code.

"You're… Wyrda?" He asked her. A multitude of scenarios come to mind as to why she was here.

"Amazing! The boy possesses enough brain functions to recognize a lady. Remarkable!" Wyrda said in a sarcastic tone. When she made no effort to continue Shirou decided to take things into his own hands.

"What's going on? What happened to me and why am I here?" He had still not dropped his stance, fearing there was a hidden enemy somewhere and that smile The Woman Called Wyrda was wearing did nothing to alleviate his worries.

"Aw, what's the matter? Is the little magus boy afraid of little old me? Oh my, to think I went all that effort to bring you here and you don't seem appreciate my act of kindness. Truly, you humans are fickle things." The Woman Called Wyrda said while she sat down on a rock a few meters away from him.

Shirou's eyes narrowed at her words. "What do you mean with that? Why would you bring me here?" He changed his stance, but instead of a defensive one he opted for an offensive stance instead.

"You know, you're not nearly as cute when you're frowning like that. You're what? Eleven years old? You should smile more often. I remember when we met in the Forest of Frost and you couldn't stop smiling when you found out we were in the Fae world. What happened to that Shirou? Did he die and get replaced by Mr. Frown over here?" She didn't even acknowledge him as a threat it seemed, not even after he showed aggressive actions. Not that he could blame her. She was a fairy and could most likely sense his prana levels. Not even a second-rate magus would take him seriously in his state.

It didn't mean he had to admit it.

"He was pretty angry when he found out you kidnapped him and threw him in a forest who know how many miles from his home." He answered without batting an eye at her jokes.

The Woman Called Wyrda let out a small, almost unnoticeable, laugh while she brought out a nail file from root knows where and started using it to trim her nails. Her blatant arrogance ignited the flames of rage in Shirou and he was about to walk up to her and demand she bring him back when _**IT**_walked out from behind the rock.

_**IT**_ was a giant dog, black as night. It had the basic appearance of an Irish wolfhound, but nobody in their right state of mind would call it such. The first clue was the yellow eyes which seemed to glow in the eye sockets and the way it seemed to stare him down, daring him to move. The second clue was that it was bigger than any natural dog. It towered over even Wyrda when she was standing and it looked like it could go toe to toe with a bull. The third and final clue was when it _spoke._

"My Lady, may I remind you of the reason we appeared before the poor boy? It wouldn't do either of you any favors by forgetting why we are here." Contrary to its appearance, the voice was polite and respectful. Though it sounded rough and wretched, the dog was apparently well-trained and taught. Compared to the yakuza he met while helping Raiga, it was strangely endearing.

It didn't change the fact that it looked ready to tear him to pieces.

The Woman Called Wyrda clapped her hands together. "Ah, that's right! I completely forgot about that, thanks for reminding me, Gellert!" She threw away the nail filer and it shattered into sparks in the air. "The reason I called you here is because I need you to take my place." She said without a care in the world.

Shirou was dumbfounded. "What?"

"It's quite simple. My sisters and I are called the Norns. We were the goddesses of Past, Present and Future. I was the Past, but my sisters didn't like me very much. After a quarrel they sealed me in the past and banished me to an ash tree and chained me there. I, a goddess, was reduced to a fairy. I spent years in the Forest of Frost until you came along and supplied me with the tools to escape. Remember the Hazel branch?" She asked him.

He tried to remember that day and could vaguely remember something about a hazel tree.

"Well, the leafless hazel tree was one of the most poisonous existences in the Fae world second only to iron. The sap I had collected from the branch enabled me to poison the ash tree and to remove my shackles." She held up a necklace of bare design and made of iron, if his eyes didn't betray him.

"Though the seal did prove to be rather annoying, I soon found a loophole. Someone of Fae blood must be imprisoned here for anyone to escape. Since you made it into the Fae world you must either be of Fae blood or be connected to the Fae through some artifact. The bowstave I enchanted for you increased that connection either way so you were the key to my escape." She clasped her dress and gave Shirou a shallow curtsy. "Thank you, Shirou for your selfless act of sacrifice. I will never forget your heroism."

With that, she looked at the ox-sized dog and gave it an impatient look. "Are you satisfied now, Gellert?"

The dog, called Gellert, sighed, or the canine variety of a sigh, and returned The Woman Called Wyrda's gaze. "I believe you were supposed to explain where he is now, My Lady."

The Woman Called Wyrda growled at the correction and looked back to Shirou. "It seems my servant thinks he can do a better job than I can. With that in mind, he can explain the rest of your situation in my stead. Good bye, Little Shirou." with those final words, she disappeared.

The dogs gave off another canine sigh and decided to sit down on its hindquarters. Though it just made Shirou more uncomfortable since it seemed as if the giant wolf-like dog look even larger in height. The intense, murderous stare it had seemed to disappear as well now that she was gone though. Perhaps it only saw him as a threat when his mistress was around.

"In the absence of My Lady, I will now explain your circumstances to you. My Lady brought you back approximately one-thousand five-hundred years in the past to the place of her sealing. As she would not have been able to escape her prison without another Fae or Fae-halfbreed, she chose you to be her stand-in. We are currently in the south-east parts of what will be called England and the year is 487." It spoke in a dull voice, though with a hint of empathy. He sounded a bit like a tourist guide who knew the tourists were getting scammed, but hadn't developed the hide thick enough to ignore it.

Shirou on the other hand was growing more and more furious by the second. His headache had returned with a vengeance and it took all his might not to lash out at the werewolf-like dog. He was quite sure he wouldn't survive the consequence of such an action.

"Why are you doing this?" he finally asked, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. The dog noticed his state and was quiet for a few moments.

"Sometimes, we don't know why we do things. All I know is that it doesn't matter if it's humans or spirits, no living thing can survive loneliness. If you spend your life in darkness and you finally see a slight sliver of light then you will do everything in you power to keep that light, even of you find yourself doing things you'd never would have thought you could before. My Lady is my light, in time I'm sure you'll find your own." As if realizing it had said too much, it suddenly stood and prepared to leave. It pointed with its paw along creek.

"If you follow the creek you'll find a small village close to the sea. Perhaps you'll be able to start a life there." As soon as it had said those words it took off, its powerful legs catapulting it through the air and into the thick forest. Even when it had disappeared, Shirou could hear the trees breaking as the behemoth thundered through the woods.

He sat down on the same rock The Woman Called Wyrda had sat on. His head was just a jumble of thoughts all trying to find it way on top. He was in England? He traveled back in time to the fifth century? Wyrda was a Goddess? All of it was too much for a third-rate magus who had just begun his second decade of living.

He must have sat there for at least an hour before he decided to do something about his fate. Sitting in a forest and sobbing wasn't going to change anything. Planning and action was the only solution. But before that he needed to eat and rest. He wasn't going to die before he had a chance to do anything. Standing up and using the staff as a walking stick again, he made his along the creek.

It took him almost two hours before he reached the village. By then the forest had dwindled down to reveal fields of grass and large rock formations. The wind blew even stronger here than in the forest and he wrapped his school jacket closer around his body to preserve heat. The wind was obviously from the sea as it was perhaps two-hundred meters away from the village with only a few trees between the sea and the humans.

Walking into the village he was shocked by the bareness of it. The houses were gray and made of wood, the fences were in desperate need of repair and the two only large buildings showed signs of fire damage. There were currently no one in the street and the only living thing visible was a donkey strapped to a wagon filled with wooden barrels. It was outside the second largest building and judging by the design and the sound coming from it, it was the tavern of the village.

Limping towards the tavern, he entered the house.

Loud arguments were the only thing he heard. From left to right, it was just a never-ending barrage of voices arguing about something he couldn't make out. The people of the tavern were not quite what he had expected though. His image of the medieval people was that they were dirty and didn't know how to dress and act, but from what he could see here it didn't quite seem to be true.

Everyone wore a full wardrobe. Pants, shirt or tunic, some sort of cloak that covered their upper body, boots and hat appeared to be the norm for men while the women seemed to favour a dress which covered their entire body though some left their lower arms revealed.

Likewise their language did not seem too different than normal English. Sure it did have a strange accent and some words he didn't know what they meant despite Kiritsugu having taught him advanced English. But he could understand most of what was being said if it weren't for the fact that everything was so damned loud.

As if they had heard his desire for silence, the entire room stopped yelling. No he could finally hear what they were talking about. A voice on the other side of the room spoke, the male owner of it was probably used to speaking to large crowds as his voice boomed over the heads of the other tavern goers.

"I know what I'm asking is a lot, but I'm not asking you for my sake. I'm asking for yours! In a few weeks the Saxons will land and they will put every village in brittania to the torch. This village will only be the first step on their march of war and if the brittanian people are to survive this invasion then we must stand and fight. Running away without a fight will only serve as our doom in the long run." The man spoke.

Unlike the rest of the villagers, this man was different. He didn't wear normal clothe like the rest of the town. Instead he wore leather armour and a thick fur cloak. His black beard reached his chest and it was peppered with gray. His hair had suffered the same fate in the struggle against time. At his hip was a sword, a bastard sword that had seen its fair share of battle.

A villager, most likely the mayor or someone of similar position, spoke up against him. "Do you even realize _what_ it is you're asking for? We are a small fishing village; we barely have fifty people in total. To ask us to give you ten soldiers, all youths, is simply too much. We have seven children in the village right now, the rest died in the roman wars. We cannot hope to meet your demands." He spoke with desperation. Most likely there was a punishment for those who could not supply their lords with soldiers.

The soldier nodded before he continued; "I understand your plight, Baron Distray. That is why the Duke has given the lords and ladies of his land several options in the hopes that you would agree to his call-for-arms." He brought out a scroll from his armour and started reading from it. "For every knight supplied fully armed, seven soldiers will be wiped from the village's debt. For every Man-at-arms supplied fully armed, six soldiers will wiped from the village's debt. For every archer supplied fully trained, four soldiers will be wiped from your debt. As the duke understands the time needed to find the men for the debt to be paid, he has graciously given you a week to find the men needed." he stopped and looked to the Baron who had protested earlier.

The baron was pale in the face and stammered at first. "Sir Ludvig, as I said earlier, most of our men are old and sick. The only Man-at-arms we have is Robin of Blackbay and while he is eager to get back into battle, we don't have any other knight or archer who could help us fill our quota. We were hit by the Saxons too hard in the first wave and we have barely begun to recover from our losses. Surely you must understand, your son…"

"Hold your tongue, Distray!" The man roared. "My son has nothing to do with this and you would do well to avoid further mentioning him in my presence. I shall be back in a week to collect the men. For now I have to inform the rest of the villages near the coast." The man took long strides out of the hall and the floor creaked at every step. The crowd parted as the soldier passed through them; as if they were afraid he would cut them down with his sword if they didn't.

When he passed Shirou however, he faltered. He stopped and stared at Shirou as if he was some kind of strange new animal at the zoo and was trying to determine what kind of animal he was. When he finally couldn't figure it out he left through the open door and slammed the door behind him.

The entire tavern was quiet now. The man's announcement had put an end to the yelling and everyone seemed focused on how to survive the coming invasion. Shirou for the most part was too exhausted to think about it. He hadn't even for a long time it felt and he needed to get some sleep too.

He walked up to the medieval bar disk and started talking to the owner.

"Um, hello?" Now that he was here, he had no idea what to say. The owner looked down at him and frowned when he saw his face.

"Yeah?" he asked back.

"Well, could I get some food?" What kind of food did they eat? What kind of money did they use? How did the system around here work? Could he get arrested for vagrancy? All these thoughts suddenly erupted in his head as he froze.

The owner didn't seem to notice, but instead just looked at him. "You got the money to pay for it?"

Shirou's silence was apparently all the answer he needed.

The man sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Listen lad, Ah can't just give you the food without paying for it. If Ah did then I would lose me tavern. Sorry, but Ah can't help there." He said. "Though if you catch me one of them wee hares or birds, Ah wouldn't mind cooking it for you." the man said.

Shirou looked down, crestfallen but understood the principle behind it. He had been naïve to think he would get food for free, just like he had been naïve to think Wyrda had helped for free. He had to learn to read people better.

On the other hand, if he could catch an animal he could at least cook it here. The problem would be hunting it. He didn't have the prana to trace an arrow in his current condition. If he could rest for a while he could generate enough prana to trace a few weapons, but he couldn't perform a single spell right now. He turned back to the owner of the tavern and steeled himself for the answer.

"Do you think I could rest her for a few hours? I'm kind of tired and I really need to get some sleep." He asked the owner, this time putting all his hopes on this last chance.

"Sure, there's a bench in that corner with some blankets…" he said while pointing to the corner near the fireplace. "… and there's a pillow beneath the bench. Ah'll be closing shop after dusk so you have until then to get some shuteye, lad. Ah'll wake you up before Ah close." Then he turned to the wall and started cleaning mugs used for ale.

Shirou tanked the man and made it sluggishly to the wooden bench. It was made in the most primitive of way. Someone had chopped a log in two and added for legs to it, but right now it looked a heaven to weary Japanese lost in time.


	5. Chapter 5

_Archer of Black_

_Chapter 5: The Warg_

So this is Chapter 5 of Archer of Black. Before I start the chapter I just want to address some issues in the story. As some of you know and most of you may or may not know King Arthur popped up as a legend in the 12th century _Historia Regum Britanniae._ However, King Arthur was a leader in the fifth or sixth century. As such, a lot of the stories of the Knights of the Round Table will have inconsistences about the terms and objects used. The titles of nobility such as Baron, Duke and Earl were not completely established in the early medieval ages, but were later incorporated into the Arthurian legend during the 12th century.

In order to make some kind of sense in this pick-and-mix of medieval terms I decided to establish some kind of basis. Therefore the peerage used will be that of the 12th century and the same goes for weapons, armies and all the other stuff where it clashes with real life, it simply for the sake of simplicity. The Monetary system used will be the Copper/Silver/Gold. At first I wanted to use Pence/Shilling/Pound, but it was so weird to write them considering they hadn't even been invented yet. It was hell trying to find some kind of coinage that worked, but it seemed like there was problem in medieval Britannia due to the fact that Rome had left it and they were stuck in a monetary pinch and as a result didn't have a clear monetary system. So I will be using the current value of gold and make 1 Gold= 80 Silver= 6000 Copper. So 1 Silver= 80 Copper. It's not ideal, but after spending hours looking for a good coinage I finally gave up and just went with this.

Otherwise I don't really have a lot to say about the matter. It will take place in the 5th century, but will use 12th century terms in most situations.

As for the village of Blackbay: It is near the sea in the county of Sussex, just a few miles south-west of Hastings. There will be more information about it when I progress the story, but I simply wanted you to know the geographical status of where Shirou is. However keep in mind I'm not a citizen of the UK so there will be errors in geography. Any professors of history can tell you I'm not the most accurate person when it comes to historical events. Or modern events. or future events. Let us just say I'm not very good with events in general.

As for the Norn sisters and the strife between them; I made the argument about them up. I simply wanted a goddess from the northern religions who was related to the past and Urd was an interesting character. I changed her name to Wyrda because Urd sounded too Scandinavian and I wanted her name to sound a little fae-ish. I also wanted to make it slightly harder to find out who she was even if it wasn't that hard at all. She is going to be an antagonist, but not the only one. She'll appear in the next arc, but in the immediate future she isn't going to matter at all.

Another issue is the OCs. Since this is a timetravel story there will be OCs in it. Pretty hard considering there are only a few people who were mentioned in the visual novel and anime. The Knights of the Round Table are seen in other games, but I haven't played them. Therefore I'm going to do my best to keep them in character, but be ready for a few OCs to make it in the story.

And if it wasn't obvious in the previous text then Shirou is in Saber's time period. He's going to meet her, but we're not there yet.

One reviewer also wrote something interesting. He said that in fate/extra Archer (EMIYA) was seen using a sniper while still Emiya Shirou. Also his room has several rifles and modern firearms hanging on the walls showing that he can in fact use modern firearms. I'm going to be honest here… I had no idea. I wanted to make it so Shirou couldn't just trace a RPG and slaughter anyone in his path, especially since it's the medieval ages and the most advanced weapon is the bow. I made up the theory of him being unable to use the weapons because Kiritsugu had a similar condition where he couldn't do any repairs on a machine because of his origins.

Regardless, I was wrong, but I'm not going to change it. Shirou was raised by the Magus Killer and should have seen lots of weapons that could destroy entire armies if traced in enough quantity. It would make him steamroll every opponent he faced and I don't want that. I hate Gary Stues; I have hated them ever since I tried reading My Immortal. I felt so dirty I had to cry myself to sleep afterwards. It was just so awful. I felt like someone had taken a rusty nail and shoved it through my ear and into my brain and then stirred it around to inflict as much damage as possible. I don't know if it was a crack fic or not, all I know is I never want to read anything that uses the words "posers" or "Goff" ever again. Oh god, the grammar! Somebody, please look at the grammar!

I wonder if I can get myself a lobotomy…

* * *

><p><strong>AOB<strong>

When Shirou woke up he was being shaken rather roughly. He groaned at the annoyance and was about to tell the aggressor to stop it, when he opened his eyes and took in the environment.

He was in a dark room; the only sources of light were the candles in the chandelier and the fire in the fireplace. The walls were made of thick wooden logs stacked on top of each other and the roof was made of uneven boards. The floor was similarly made from wooden boards, but at least they were even, although they were rather worn down and dirty.

The man shaking him was a man with a balding head dressed in a tunic and loose trousers. He had a belt with a dagger hanging from it. He had a grim expression on his face, one that made Shirou hope it wasn't because of him.

Then he remembered what had happened the day before and it all came crashing down on him. He bolted of the bed he had made on the wooden bench and sat up, only to wince for the fifty-eleventh time as his bones and wounds screamed at him to stop moving. Reaching out for a chair, he used it to support his weight. Doing a quick Structural Analysis on his body he found out his exact condition.

Most of the fractures had healed, leaving only the more severe ones and the broken bones left. The infected wounds had not healed due to the bacteria in the wounds needing to be removed first. If he continued using healing spells he might be able to remove the infection and close the wound, but with his current stores of prana it was be a waste of magecraft. If he could clean and dress the wounds he could do it without magic and save prana for more serious matters.

"You okay there, laddie? Ah don't want no corpses in me tavern, you hear?" the tall man said with a gruff voice. The statement may have sounded rude, but the expression on his face said otherwise.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, no need to worry." He said as he sat up, only to wince when his still pulverized ribs screamed in protest. "Where am I exactly?" Shirou asked the man. First step in making a plan was knowing the geography, Kiritsugu had said.

The man looked at him like he was stupid before shrugging. "You're in the village of Blackbay, lad, the finest fishing village in all of Britannia." The tavern owner said. "Though Ah don't think we'll be here for long now that the Saxons are coming, bloody wankers the lot of 'em." He said under his breath, not knowing Shirou could hear him.

"And where in Britannia is Blackbay village?" he asked, trying to get as much information from the man as he could. Information was the most important thing when it came to planning after all.

"We're in the south-eastern part of Britannia, laddie. The most south-eastern part possible in fact; it's why people are so afraid now that an invasion is coming. This place will be the first place the Saxons strike."

"I…see." Shirou answered.

So he was in the south-eastern parts of England and the Saxons were about to launch an invasion. Did that mean it was after the retreat of the roman army? He should have paid better attention to those history channel programs. For once in his life he was cursing the fact that he had wanted to watch those cooking shows back home. His cooking was better than Kiritsugu's thanks to it, but damn it he needed to know more things about the middle ages now.

"So you're not from around here kid? Where did you come from?" the owner asked.

Shirou chuckled, a low and dark laugh that had no place coming from an eleven year old. "Well, I don't know exactly. All I remember is being kidnapped by a Fae." He stopped to remember the specifics. "And a dog… not that I expect you to believe me."

The man pondered on what he said before he decided something in his head. "Alright then lad, Ah believe you. Though if you want some friendly advice; try to hide your face. Now that the Saxons are coming we are finding their spies crawling all over our settlements. Ah can tell you aren't Saxon, but some of the more inexperienced lads might try to string you up." He stood back up from the chair he had been sitting on. "Now Ah have to close up shop, but Ah couldn't help but notice you don't seem to have that much stuff with you. Don't you have any clothes besides that?"

"No, but I'll be fine. I'll make a fire during the night and get to work during the day. It probably won't be that cold." He said, confident in his survival skills honed through years of training with his father.

"Sorry to let you down laddie, but you won't survive the night. The nights have been growing colder over the years and it almost winter too. Those clothes of yours won't keep you warm enough. Wait here." The bald man said as he went into the back room. He came out a few minutes later.

He held up an old dusty piece of cloth. "It's an old cloak Ah used to wear years ago. Ah use it to cover me donkey out front during the rain, but you look like you need it more the she does."

Shirou took the cloak from the man and sure enough, it smelled like of donkey. Still it was better than just wearing the clothes he had now and it looked thick enough to preserve some heat if it really became cold at night. Maybe not enough to keep him warm, but maybe enough to get him through the night. If he was lucky he might be able to make some kind of shelter, but if…

He was interrupted by the smell and sight of a loaf of bread. The man in front of him was holding a small loaf of bread, covered with seeds and it looked like it was going to become mouldy any day now.

The man holding the bread simply shrugged and said: "It was going to go bad soon so Ah figured you might as well eat it if nobody else will enjoy it. Now get out of me tavern, laddie! It's the baron's orders that no one is allowed to be in the tavern and the church during the night." He said, his voice regaining its gruff attitude towards the end.

Shirou hurried out of the building, not wanting to take advantage of the man's generosity too much. As soon as he got out however he was attacked by the freezing cold of the wind. This was too much for an autumn wind that was for sure. It was well below minus degrees and the wind didn't seem to make it any better. Looking out towards the ocean he could see the beach being slowly covered by ice. Quickly he wrapped the dull brown and smelly cloak around his body in a desperate attempt to preserve what little heat his tiny body had left. Flipping the hood over his head, he made his way towards the forest hoping that the trees would stop the winds from sucking all the warmth out of the air. His quarterstaff had still not disappeared thankfully; it most likely had at least another day to it. Using it to help him navigate in the dark, he was able to reach the forest without tripping even once.

Once in the forest he used what precious little od he had to trace a tent. It was a small tent, the one that required the least amount of prana to make. He quickly worked to set the tent up and by the end of it his hands were freezing cold. Jumping inside the tent, he quickly started wolfing down the loaf of bread he had received from the tavern owner. It was delicious after he had spent most of the day starving and it sated his hunger enough for him not to be bothered by it, enough for him to keep half of the loaf for the next day. Feeling more tired than anything else now, he used the cloak as a makeshift sleeping bag and tried to rest for the remainder of the night. Though it was easier said than done.

During the night he heard strange noises around him. Sticks breaking, trees falling, rocks shattering, all around him strange noises would sound. Though those weren't the scary ones.

It was the animal calls that were the scary ones.

Everyone knows the howl of a wolf, right? Now imagine; the howl of a wolf, only ten times as loud and accompanied by five other of the same volume. Scared yet? Well, add this; each howl came closer and closer each time it was heard. Still not scared? How about this then: howls came from all around him and were converging at his location. Still think he was exaggerating?

One was directly above him.

He could clearly see the silhouette on the side of the tent. It was not a wolf by any means beside the head. It stood on two legs, though it had a hunched back. The body was covered with fur even though he could not see what colour it was. The feet and hands had vicious claws inches long and the wolf-shaped head had an elongated snout filled with fangs unlike anything he had ever seen before.

It didn't move from the spot it stood on, but it did move its head back and forth the tent, sniffing it and trying to detect what it was. It must have stood there for thirty minutes before it left, unsure of what the brightly coloured object was and not willing to risk the possibility of being a foe.

Shirou let out a sigh of relief the moment it had disappeared and he couldn't hear their footsteps anymore. Slowly he poked his head out of the opening of the tent, shivering slightly when the cold met his head. Steeling himself for what he was about to do, he wrapped the cloak around himself once more. Using his staff to draw protective runes around his tent, he berated himself for his lack of caution.

Of course there would be phantasmal beasts in medieval England! How could he have missed such an obvious fact? He almost lost his life and if it hadn't one of the more cautious beasts who had found him first he would definitely have died. Having finished the circle of runes around his house, he crawled back into the tent, now at least he was sure it wouldn't be his own fault if he died.

**AOB**

Waking up covered in sweat and dirt was not a pleasant experience. It was easy to forget how important indoor plumbing and heating had become in the twentieth century, but now that he had no way to take a shower or keep warm he suddenly felt like he had taken a lot of things for granted.

Like food for example.

The loaf of bread the tavern owner gave him had sated his hunger, but when the sun appeared over the horizon he was once more hungry. He could still taste the somewhat dry loaf in his mouth and it watered at the thought of more food. He looked at the half he had saved from the night before and his stomach rumbled at the sight of it. It would be so easy to simply bite into it and devour the baked meal, but he knew he couldn't do it. The stale piece of bread was the only food he had and he had no home, no money and no idea what he was supposed to do. He was an eleven year old boy stuck in the medieval ages without anyone he knew to help him. Yes, he did know magecraft, but that can only take you so far. He didn't even know the current era's stance on magic. Were they witch-burning fanatics or did they think magic was just a part of nature? Merlin was supposed to be a major magus in this age and people liked him. Although morgana was also a magus and she was not loved at all.

His thoughts of the future were interrupted by the stinging infections in his wounds. He had to take care of those before he could ponder over matters far away in contrast.

Inspecting his wounds he grimaced at the sight of them. Yellow pus was leaking out of the deep cuts at a very slow rate, covering the nearby skin in the sticky liquid. While pus was a good thing since it meant his immune system was fighting the infection, if he didn't clean the wound properly the infection might spread and he would die from blood poisoning. He didn't really want to die like that, not before he could find a way to get back.

Since he didn't have any medicine to clean the wound with and he doubted the alcohol in the tavern was clean enough to use, he would have to resort to more primitive measures.

Water. Lots and lots of hot water.

Luckily he knew how to make that happen. He might not have the prana to trace continuously, but a single object was easy even when he was recovering. He traced a pot large enough to hold a few gallons and put it down on the ground. The next step was not as easy. Activating his magic crest he felt the abused circuits flare up in pain at the use of them. While he didn't have the reserves to call on water from a nearby spring, if he was careful he could collect the moisture in the air around him. Drop by drop, the water in the space around him converged in the pot and the water level rose by the minute. Thankfully the mystical properties of the forest had affected the temperature in it. Although the nights were below freezing, the days were warmer and the frost had thawed into the air. There was no shortage of water where he was.

The next step was less tricky and more exhausting. In order to boil the water to remove any bacteria, he would need to collect firewood and start a fire. If he was in top condition he could trace an axe and chop all he wanted, but right now he would be lucky if he could trace a small hatchet.

So that was what he did. After tracing the billhook, he went out and started cutting small branches at the bottom of the tree next to his tent. He couldn't use any real strength due to the broken ribs cutting into his abdominal muscles, but the weight of the hatchet and the edge made it easier to gather the wood. It didn't remove the stabbing pain every time he lifted the hatchet though.

Lighting the fire was easier. Starting a fire didn't require nearly as much prana as gathering water due to the difference in the elements so the burn in his circuits didn't feel as painful as when he was gathering water. It was keeping the fire going that was proving to be a challenge. The wind tried to extinguish the small campfire he had and the unstable pot looked like it was going to topple over every time a log collapsed after having been sufficiently incinerated. What would have taken fifteen minutes when he was healthy took instead two hours in his current state.

He made two pots filled with water. One was used to hold clean and hot water while the second one was used to boil the strips of clothing he had decided to use as bandages. His undershirt was the only white thing he owned and was probably the cleanest one as well so it was torn apart to cover his wounds instead. He didn't know how long it took to kill the bacteria so he kept them boiling for a while until he was certain the rags were sterile.

After that he started cleaning the wounds. Every time he poured water on the foul smelling injuries he had to bite back a scream and the clearing he was in suddenly echoed with the sound of his groans. It wasn't hot enough to give him any burns, but it was enough to make him feel the pain receptors flare up in response.

By the end of the day he had been able to clean and dress the wounds and he had even found a few berries to eat. In the end he had devoured the last of the bread without any regrets.

**AOB**

The wolf was under an oak tree, feeding on a squirrel it had found dead, frozen by the cold. The autumn air was not a concern for the large canine thanks to the black fur it wore. Right now it was eating as much as it possibly could, after all…

Winter was comi-

Whatever may have gone through the wolf's head was interrupted by the arrow going through its head at that exact same moment. The momentum of the arrow carried over into the wolf's body and carried it into the oak tree where the arrow stopped. The wolf body collapsed as it twitched in its death throes.

Shirou emerged from his hiding place just a few dozen meters away. He had laid the track of the dead squirrel this morning and had waited in the bushes for over two hours before that wolf arrived. The large predator weighed probably more than Shirou did and he doubted it would have let him go if he had been the prey instead. That was why he didn't hesitate to use his Fae bow to put it down, instead of the other bows that were more suited to hunting.

It had been three days since Shirou had arrived in the medieval era and he was finally beginning to recover his strength. The first day had been spent sleeping and eating the last of his bread. He had also cleaned his wounds, but he really didn't want to think about them. Seeing his wounds leak with yellow liquids didn't make him feel any better, it just made him want to vomit.

The second day he went down to the village. There he had fished for information and other useful trivia. Aside from having been one of the foremost trading villages, Blackbay village was nothing out of the ordinary. It had been hit the first and the hardest by the first Saxon invasion and had never been able to recover. They were a fishing village and as a result they had a severe lack of meat. Therefore they traded a lot of their fish for the meat and fur hunters and merchants would bring.

Of course who needs a hunter when Shirou is in town?

The latter half of the second day was spent hunting. By using runes to hide his scent and sound Shirou could stalk or hide from his prey better than any normal hunter could and by the end of the day he had caught a wolf and a deer.

The owner of the tavern, Rowland as he had introduced himself as, had been surprised when he showed him the deer as it was rare for the people of Blackbay to get a taste of it, but was even more impressed when shown the wolf. Apparently wolf and bear pelts were incredibly popular among the nobles and the price of the wolf was made even higher since they often attacked cattle. While a deer got you one silver, a wolf got you two. The reason was that if you treated the pelt for the foul smell that normally clung to the skin, you would have a cloak of thick fur that was apparently considered fashionable in court.

Of course this meant Shirou would have to hunt more wolves if he was to have any way to rely on hunting. Buying a house seemed to cost at least twenty silverand that was the cheapest Shirou could find. Not that he was planning to buy it; he wasn't going to waste his money on a rundown shack about to collapse in a village that was soon to be attacked. He had a better plan.

He walked to the dead wolf nailed to tree and dismissed the arrow holding it there. The carcass dropped to the ground like a ragdoll and he was able to see the damage the arrow had done.

At least they wouldn't need the head when they were skinning the poor beast.

By now he could at least use magic like before. His reinforcement was a little shoddy since he couldn't reinforce his still mending ribs and thighs, but the rest of the magecraft he knew was ready to go. He had been able to repair his clothes to a degree so the wind wouldn't blow through the like before and he had at last been able to wash the cloak he'd been given so it no longer smelled like ass, pun intended. With his school uniform and the dull brown cloak, he probably made quite a sight.

Back to the matter at hand though, this was the third wolf he caught today. Most likely from the same pack if they were this close to each other. The thing that bothered him was that they were so close to the village. Weren't wolves supposed to be afraid of humans? Yet they lived so close to them. It couldn't be natural behaviour, right?

Putting the matter aside for now, he decided to take care of the wolf. Reinforcing most of his body except his damaged bones, he heaved the large predator over his shoulder and carried it over to its two brethren on the primitive sled Shirou had made from branches he had found. He tied them together and started dragging the sled out of the forest and towards the village.

It took more effort than he had thought, but he managed to tough it out. The grassy fields made it easier to drag the wolves to his destination, but the muddy roads of Blackbay made it harder the last leg of the journey. Rowland sported a look of utter shock when he dragged in three wolves into the tavern though.

"Holy hell, lad! What the hell have you been doing since Ah last met you?" Rowland exclaimed when he saw the catch of the day. Two grey wolves and a black one.

"Oh you know, hunting and stuff. I was quite surprised at my luck though. I didn't think I would get three wolves in one day and still have time to bargain." He said as he dropped the sled. It slammed into the worn out wooden floor with a thud.

"Bargain? What do you need to bargain for?" Rowland asked with confusion clear on his face. Shirou was almost jumping with excitement at the surprise he was about to reveal to the bald man.

"Yesterday you said a wolf would get you two silvers each, right?" The man nodded. "Well, I have a plan to get even more. I noticed that there is a whole pack of wolves nearby and from what I can tell they have been going after your cattle because your fences can't hold them back. Most likely because you're afraid of whatever is living in the forest…" Rowland's face paled until he was afraid all the blood had left the man's skull. "So you can't go there and get the wood you need to repair the village. As a result, the entire village has been falling into a state of disrepair and trade has been slowing down. Am I right?"

Rowland sat down on a chair close to him and sighed. "Yeah, that's about right."

Shirou sat down opposite the old man. "How did it start? If you knew the beasts were in the forest you wouldn't settle here in the first place so does that mean they are an invasive species?" Rowland looked at him weird, obviously not understanding the meaning. "Someone brought them here?" Phantasmal Beasts were invasive species? Oh how the mighty have fallen.

"Yeah, that's about right too. It all started when the Saxons attacked. Not only did they burn our docks and kill all our young men, but they brought something with them that night, something evil. We call 'em Wargs and are about as evil as you get. They're men who lost their reason and became monsters who mate with wolves. It's why the wolves have been moving closer to the village, they're being ordered to!" Rowland said, face red with rage.

"They're stronger than any man Ah've known. They came in here one night and tore me wife and son in half and threw me through the wall. I woke after they left and found me wife's and child's bones chewed up and spit out."

"Then why haven't you left? Or asked for help? Wouldn't the duke send the army?" Shirou asked Rowland, but the man shook his head.

"Whenever we try to leave the village we are attacked. The monsters wouldn't let their main source of food walk away. They have enough intelligence to leave the army alone and only attack the villagers. And do you really think we haven't tried to talk to the duke? Telling him was the first thing we tried. He sent a couple of soldiers, but they didn't find a thing. They went into hiding as soon as they saw the duke's insignia. Now the man won't listen to us regardless of what we say." Rowland's tone was bitter and defeated.

"If you knew about the things then why didn't you tell me before I went into the forest?" Shirou said, a little suspicious.

"Ah didn't know you were gonna walk into the forest like that! Ah thought you were gonna sleep with the pigs like any sane traveller would."

Shirou could understand the man though, not that he had any plans of sleeping in a pigsty. To be trapped on all sides with nobody to help you was something he was intimately familiar with. His first memories were of walking through a sea of flames after all. If Kiritsugu helped him why couldn't Shirou help Rowland?

"That is why I want to bargain with you, Rowland." Shirou said with confidence.

Rowland looked at him with a confused expression. "What the hell do ya mean with bargaining?"

Shirou smiled. "What do you know about skinning wolves?" he said and pointed to his catch. Rowland scowled at his question.

"More than anyone else in Britannia. Why?" he responded.

"If a wolf can get you two silvers, imagine what a Warg, an enormous wolf the size of a man can get you." It was better left unsaid the amount going through Rowland's mind.

Rowlands face broke out into a smile after a few seconds. "Ah reckon it'd be a rather hefty sum, especially if word reached the court that the largest wolf pelt ever skinned was in Blackbay. Me thinks a noble would pay quite the pretty coin for such a pelt."

"And when was the last time the Saxons came here with the Wargs?" Shirou asked for clarification.

"Fifteen years ago, if me memory serves me well."

"Don't wolves reproduce rather often? As in they have pups every year? By now they should have a rather large population." He said to explain his idea.

Rowland frowned and his smile disappeared. "Ah think Ah see where you're going with this, laddie. It ain't going to work. Killing one or two of them might be possible if we work together and ambush the damn thing, but what you're talking about is insane."

Shirou was not going to let his determination waver. His father had let him take over the responsibilities of his dream. To leave the village alone in their time of need was unacceptable. So if the man's sense of revenge and greed weren't enough, he had to try something a bit more direct.

"Rowland, are you just going to let them kill you? Let them pick you off one at a time, like pigs for slaughter? Don't you remember that the Saxons are coming soon and with the Saxons from the sea and the Wargs in the forest there is no way you'll make it out alive. We need to get rid of one or we'll all die."

There was also the magical aspect of the Wargs. He had found a Phantasmal beast; it didn't matter if it was on the lowest of scales, the magical ingredients he could harvest from those things were incredible. It might even be possible to use them to discover the magic Wyrda used.

"And how do you propose we go about killing a magical monster then? I don't suppose you have a weapon capable of killing something like a monster out of legends. Tell me, what bright idea do you have?" Rowland asked.

Shirou responded by calling a fire in his hands and holding it there.

"Magic."

Rowland eyes widened to the size of saucers and he gave a loud gulp.

"That's a good idea." He concluded.

Shirou smiled in agreement.

"I thought so too.

**AOB**

_Fourth day since Shirou's arrival_

"So tell me, how did you come across this magic of yours?" Rowland asked him the next day.

After Shirou had revealed his magecraft to him, Rowland had been too stunned to ask anything about it. He had just agreed to try and hunt the Wargs with Shirou and had started working on the pelts immediately afterwards. He had told Shirou to use the room upstairs of the tavern, despite the fact that it was against the baron's orders. Shirou had spent most of the night planning. He had taken a map of Blackbay and the surrounding forest and committed it to memory. Making notes of where the Warg encampment, or den, could be. The most advantageous field of engagement and the most disadvantageous, how to lure them to his stronghold and how to take them down. It wasn't until the sun was starting to go up that he finally decided to go to sleep.

Rowland had knocked on the door when he had gotten a few hours of sleep, according to his wristwatch. After that he had explained his plan to the tavern owner/pelt-skinner and he had reluctantly agreed to it.

"My dad taught it to me." Shirou answered swiftly. He was setting up the traps necessary for the plan. He did not have to the access to his father's preferred traps such as explosives and gas, but Shirou had spent a lot of time analysing various equipment in stores related to hunting. It might not be as effective in capturing the game as modern traps, but the basic theory was the same. Foot goes on platform, the jaws are pushed together and the leg is trapped. The results given might not be the same, but lethality was increased. He did feel bad about the methods he used, the pain the traps would cause, but this was the only possible way he could conjure up in such a short amount of time.

The Saxons were coming in a few weeks' time. By then the village would have had to evacuate if they were to survive, if they didn't then the Saxons would overwhelm the small community. The problem was that the Wargs would not let them leave the village. If they tried then they would ambush the villagers and if the numbers were right then the last time they attacked they were over twenty Wargs in the ambush. That was last year. Considering the fact that pups were usually left in the den when adult wolves went hunting and were guarded by a pair of adults, the real number of Wargs were probably closer to thirty.

If the attack on the village was comprised of twenty-five adults then Shirou would need some kind of equaliser to even the scales. And if having the Magus Killer as a father taught you anything then it was how to even the scales. Hence the primitive and very inhumane traps he had spent the morning creating. He was pretty sure PETA would kill him if they ever saw the things he was making.

At first glance it looked like a steel ring with a large circular platform in the middle. If you looked closely you could see the runes carved into the side of the ring. When the platform was pushed down by a paw or foot, the metal ring would snap together in a single straight line, slicing of whatever was pressing down on the platform. It was similar in design to the bear trap, but instead of holding the leg down, the leg would be cut off. Of course, Phantasmal Beasts have stronger skin and recovery abilities so he had included wind element runes and spells to increase the cutting power as well as to increase the force utilized. The entire trap was powered by magic since he had no idea how the manual bear trap worked so by using runes to increase the power used he could preserve his own prana for tracing the traps. He was hoping to make two hundred, but he could feel the strain on his circuits after only making fifty of the dangerous hunting tools.

The plan was to place the traps on the fields between the forest and the village. During the day he would hide them in the grass while marking their location on the map. Since they were traced he could make them disappear whenever he wanted to and with the quality he made them with they could stay functional for at least three days. Just enough time to set them out and draw them out…

"Really, your old man did? What was his name? Is he someone famous like Merlin or that witch Morgana?" Rowland asked once more.

"Not around here he's not. His name was Emi… Kiritsugu Emiya." He was still learning English customs and the titles of the land were not making it easy for him. His broken and incomplete English made it difficult to make himself understood. Rowland was one of the few people who had travelled to the continent and was thus used to meeting people with limited knowledge of the language, but the rest of the villagers had no such luck. Whenever he spoke to them he would have to repeat himself about three times before they got whatever it was he meant.

"Kirisu-what? What the bloody hell kind of name is that?" Rowland exclaimed. He had obviously never met someone with such a different name before.

Shirou huffed at the question; he had heard plenty of weird names since he had gotten here. The tavern goers used to tell each other myths and legends after a few glasses of ale passed their throats and some of the names of the heroes were ridiculous. Seriously, who called themselves Cú Chulainn? Or Diarmuid Ua Duibhne for that matter?

"Kiritsugu Emiya and it's a Japanese name. Japan is an island nation very far in the East." He decided to keep it simple. Trying to lie would just make the old man suspicious. Rowland was very intuitive that way.

"Right… Ah've been quiet 'til now, but what's your name, lad?" the tavern owner scratched his chin. True, until now he had been referring him as "Lad" or "Laddie". His name never came up in a conversation and Shirou never thought much about it.

"Shirou, Shirou Emiya." Short and simple to pronounce.

"Shroo-what now? Your names just get harder and harder to say. You're not making everythin' up just to make me look stupid, are you?"

Shirou sighed. "It's Shirou Emiya, Shi-rou Emi-Ya." It wasn't that hard to pronounce.

Rowland just shrugged. "Ah'll take your word for it, lad, but there ain't anyone here who's gonna be able to say your name right. Ah've been to the mainland couple o' times and Ah've heard loads o' names, but none as odd as yours." He said.

Shirou scowled, or the eleven year old equivalent of a scowl and continued to tinker with his traps. If he continued the entire day he might be able to reach his quota. "So what? You've got weird names too!"

"Aye, indeed we do, lad. And the ones who have normal names never let us live it down!" He let out a boisterous laugh as he patted Shirou on the back. He stopped himself after the second pat and adopted a thinking expression. It did not suit him very well though.

"So what kind of magic can you do? Turn water to wine? If you can do that then Ah might have a job for you in the back. Some of me customers have been complaining about the beer and wine we've been getting lately. The lords and kings have been hogging all the good stuff for themselves and we've been getting what's left over from the war between them. Ah'm telling you, ah've drunk some bitter piss in me time, but the last batch made me weep." He said, a grimace appearing on his face when the thought of the beverage entered his mind.

Shirou stopped what he was and gave it an honest though. While saving the village was his top priority, making food and food-related articles was his forte. Once he was done with the traps he could take a look at the drinks and see what he could do. He did know a variety of spices that could dampen the taste of bitterness… it did call for further thought.

"My magic doesn't work like that. The thing is, I'm not very good at magic. I'm very limited in what magic I can do. I can manipulate the elements to a degree, enough to aid me in general combat and studies, but never in any direct manner. Most of my magic focuses on runes and something called projection, or creation magic. I can form my magic energy into objects like swords or arrows and then shape them into other forms." He explained what he could to the obviously confused non-practitioner.

"So… that's a no on the winemaking?" he asked.

Shirou smiled at the disappointed tone in his voice. "I'll see what I can do about it later after I'm done."

Rowland's smile lit up the room. "Atta boy, lad! Next time you bring in a wolf, Ah'll add an extra copper."

Shirou didn't mention that if the plan worked, he'd be paying in silvers rather than copper. Pehaps even in gold.

Those wargs were really large...

**AOB**

_The Next Day_

"You sure about this, lad? Ah'm sure Ah could come with you when Ah finished the town meeting. It wouldn't take that long. Give me an hour and we'll be in the forest faster than you can say salted pork." Rowland said with a worried scowl on his face. He had been wearing a scowl more often today than he had been the last days Shirou had known him.

"I'm sure. The town meeting could take hours if they decide this is a bad idea, not that I blame them. This plan is dangerous, especially for them." He answered. He picked up the dull brown and tattered cloak and wrapped it around himself. His clothes had been reinforced to be as hard as possible and he had sewn in runes in them to make them extra hard and to keep the heat in and his smell from giving him away. Likewise, the cloak was reinforced and enchanted to protect him to the best of its abilities.

"Ah'll make them understand. It's either fight today or get slaughtered tomorrow and Ah prefer to die on my feet rather than to be ripped to pieces and eaten like a deer." The large man said.

They had divided the next stage of the plan into two parts. Rowland would call for a town meeting in the tavern where he would tell the village of their plan and convince them to help in any way they could. From building walls around the village to picking up a pitchfork when the time came. As much as Shirou wanted to think he could handle the beastly wolves at a distance, not planning for the possibility of them reaching the village was folly. The village had to be prepared for the attack of the demi-wolves, if only to be prepared to run for it when the time came.

Shirou on the other hand would scout out the area. After having spent hours setting out the traps, he had been able to get some sleep to recover from the drain on his prana reserves. Now that he was rested somewhat, he had to find the den and scout out the pathways of the Warg-pack and their numbers. Although he hated going alone, he really couldn't risk anyone else to come with him. They would not be able to move as quietly as he could and they would not be able to defend themselves either. Shirou was not an expert of scouting, but he had enough knowledge of magecraft to bridge the gap somewhat.

"Just tell them it's not something they can hide or ignore. The danger is real and it's coming to get them unless we do something about it. They don't have to charge into the frontlines like warriors, or even fight at all. As long as they willing to help in any way the can I'm happy." Shirou said to his confident partner-in-crime.

"Just leave it to me, laddie. Once the meeting is finished, Ah'll start building those walls. Ah've got enough timber to build something good, if the rest of the village pitches in then we'll make Hadrian's Wall look like a picket fence!" where the old man's confidence came from Shirou had no idea, but he wasn't going to start shooting the man down. He needed all the steam he could get if he was to convince the villagers to help.

"Anyway, I have to go. The forest isn't going to scout itself." With that, he entered the forest.

Shirou would have liked to say he wasn't afraid. He would have liked to say he wasn't frightened at all by the noises in the forest, noises any forest would have had during the afternoon. He would have liked to say he didn't almost fire an arrow at the poor deer walking past a tree a few meters away. He would have liked saying all of these things.

Unfortunately he couldn't say those things without lying. Entering the forest before had never given him this kind of feeling, the kind of feeling where a single step could mean a painful and gory death. Before he had gone into the forest as a hunter, simply going after animals any human could encounter. Now he was scouting out the territory of an extreme dangerous phantasmal beast, one who had been prowling the night devouring men and who most likely left its mark in the chapters of history. In this day and age, mankind was not on the top of the food chain. There were predators far more ferocious than he and they had the home field advantage.

He walked for hours, reaching parts of the forest he had never seen before. He took extra care to mark the trees he saw in order to find his way back. Kiritsugu had taught how to read the stars in case he was stuck in a third world country or lost at sea, but with the canopy as thick as it was in the deeper parts of the forest he doubted he could find his way back without climbing a tree and checking. He passed rivers with rundown bridges and boulders with ritualistic paintings on them. The paintings showed various scenarios of different legends and he recognised one of them, the story of Sigurd had been one of his favourite legends when researching the Fae and folklore. Though the more common name was Siegfried these days.

A branch was stepped on and he whirled around, letting lose an arrow with wind runes carved on it. The bodkin point arrow flew through the air faster than any other arrow normal bows could propel it and it entered a bush, disappearing form sight. He heard a noise beyond the shrub, the heavy `Thunk´ of the arrow nailing its target to a surface and the frantic shuffling of limbs as the victim tried to get loose from its predicament.

Shirou pulled out another arrow from the quiver he had bought from Rowland. He didn't trace the arrow since it would cost him precious prana, prana he would need to use if he was discovered by the predators lurking in these parts. He notched the arrow and walked towards the shuffling noise which was slowly becoming less frantic. As he broke through the hedge like formation of the shrubbery he saw what had been hit by his projectile.

A large wolf, larger than the ones he had killed so far was nailed to the ground by the arrow. The throat had been pierced so the predator was unable to make a sound despite being in clear agony from the fatal wound. The size of it was unreal. The wolves he had shot so far were large and even Rowland said they were huge by standards. This surpassed them all. It was probably as tall as he was when on all four and weighed several times more than he did. The jaws filled with fangs resembling knives more than teeth looked like they could crush his head in a single bite. The claws were likewise supersized and unnaturally deadly.

Wolves did not grow to these sizes in the wild. Not even in captivity in zoos where they could eat all they want were they able to grow this large. There was something more to this beast than just a healthy diet and it was obviously linked to the Wargs in the forest. The only question, how? How could Wargs enable wolves to grow into the behemoths like these? Was their presence enough to aid their natural growth? Had the bloodlines if the Wargs and the grey wolves of the area mixed into a hybrid species looking more like a dire wolf rather than a normal wolf? How had they survived in the forest for so long? The prey in the forest and the village was only able to sustain a fixed amount of predators and if all of them were large like this one then the amount of food necessary would increase as well. Bu he had seen no signs of the forest lacking wildlife and the deer he had let go in order to catch the wolves were plenty. How could the Wargs and the wolves survive and not eat all the prey around? When a large group of hunters gather in one spot they hunt the prey around them until they prey goes extinct or until the prey leaves. The Wargs had been around for fifteen years and had only been preying on the village maybe once a month according to Rowland. One or two humans a month were not enough to satisfy a large pack of wolves, especially not if the rest of the wolves/Wargs were this size. They would have to supplement their diet with the local wildlife such as deer, boar, rabbits and even bears to satisfy the ravenous hunger they had, but the forest was teeming with life and he had seen plenty of animals since his recent arrival to this time period. Nothing about the wolf made any biological sense. There had to be a magical underlying reason for the tremendous size.

Taking a look at his surroundings after he was done inspecting the animal, he was surprised at what he saw.

Wolves were like all animals in their subconscious: they liked taking the easy way out. If they found a freshly killed animal they would eat from the carcass instead of going out of their way to hunt new prey. If a deer found a pasture of grass and knew there was a pasture of even greener grass a few miles away, the deer would stay with the grass closer to it. In the wild every calorie counted and all animals were on low energy-mode unless an emergency required an explosive use. So it would only be natural for the animals to use the most cost-efficient ways to preserve their precious energy.

Which was why Shirou understood why the wolf he had just caught was following a trail.

Not just a trail as in it smelt the trail of an animal; it was following an actual physical trail. The path looked extremely well used and old. It was about three feet on breadth and had several paw prints on them of varying sizes. The wolf Shirou killed just now had been walking along the muddy trail, leaving giant prints in its wake. The thing that put him on edge however was something else. Even though it was enormous even by Rowland's standards, the paw left by this one was not the largest, but the second.

The largest prints were several inches larger and judging by the depth of the prints, it weighed more than the recently killed one too. Either that or the prints belonged to a Warg. A Warg stood on two legs and put more weight on its paws. Unlike a wolf who divided its mass on four limbs, Wargs divided its mass by two. Any paw prints left by Wargs would naturally look heavier than any wolf's, but it didn't make Shirou feel any better in confronting the damn thing. Just by looking at the impression on the ground he could tell it was a magical beast behind it. From the claws protruding further than they should, to the length between the strides, to the way the ground had been ripped open when the powerful legs and the claws tore the earth and roots apart. It wasn't the way a natural animal would travel. A normal animal would walk in a casual pace, leaving only minimal traces of its presence in its environment. The way the earth had been torn, the path being obvious to anyone who looked and the fact that it was frequently used showed that ordinary wildlife had not caused such tracks. Something which had nothing to fear in the forest had done this, something that knew it was on the top of the food chain.

And it was not afraid of leaving trails leading straight to its den because there wasn't a single being foolish enough to enter the home of a phantasmal beast. At least not one capable of self-preservation or survival….

Getting off the path in case any of the wolf's relatives were on their way, he hid the carcass with branches and leaves before hiding its smell with runes. If the Wargs or the wolves noticed the corpse of their brethren then it would alert them to his presence, not something he would want when he didn't even know their exact numbers. Caution before action, that was something Kiritsugu had drilled into his thick skull before he died. Make sure no traces of your involvement remain if the job isn't over. One can never be too careful if the enemy is stronger than you in every way.

He finished the impromptu cover-up and followed the trail he had found, carefully avoiding getting too close to it. He hid behind bushes and trees in order to make sure he wasn't seen and always kept an eye on his surroundings in case one of the large wolves had decided to strike out on its own. His hands were shaking and he had to clench his fists on the bow and arrow he was holding in order to make sure he didn't drop them. Had he bit off more than he could chew? He had been talking about fighting a pack of phantasmal beasts just days of arriving to another time. Why had he done that? Anyone with a pair of eyes and a functional brain could tell he was in way over his head. A single Warg was large enough to kill him and rip him to pieces and here he was waltzing into a den full of them.

Despite knowing this he continued. He had no idea why he wanted to find the den and save the village. For some reason he just felt like he had to. In the deep silence of the forest he could hear the beating of his heart.

And the howls of a pack of wolves ahead of him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Archer of Black_

_Chapter 6: A storm is brewing _

Chapter 6…

This is the longest story I have ever written. It's odd actually, the difference between a story I thought was an interesting concept to begin with and a story whose idea I actually found possible. I wrote several stories, but I never finished any of them, possibly because all I did was think of, what I thought was, a good idea. However after a few chapters I found the concept to be faulty from the beginning. It didn't fit into the universe of the canon and as a result I had to abandon it when I discovered the flaws in the story I was writing. It was kind of disappointing when I had to delete all of my previous stories when I realized they were complete failures. They weren't original or even good by any standards and I found myself writing clichés for the sake of clichés. `Oh, Harry Potter was abandoned at birth due to the Wrong-Boy-Who-lived cliché, Awesome!´ that kind of cliché was what I liked and as a result I wrote them into my stories all the time.

Now on the other hand I try to limit my use of tropes and clichés. Instead of writing a story with one chapter I found it to be a lot more exciting to write a single story with several chapters. It gives you more satisfaction to update a story with its fifth or sixth chapter instead of publishing a new fanfic all the time. Even now I have several ideas I want to write, but for the sake of quality I wrote more in the ones I already have going on. For example I have an idea for a HP/Skulduggery Pleasant crossover and a story for Fate Stay Night/ Dark Souls.

On that matter, have any of you played the game called dark souls? I found it to be incredibly… exhausting.

It's fun to play and all, but the difficulty is just so insanely hard. For those of you who have played it, I was just enjoying my day and fighting all the undead that came my way when all of a sudden an armoured boar came out of nowhere and totally fucked my game up. I didn't know what hit me, one moment I owned every single hollow soldier and rat who dared get in my way and the next I'm being ripped open by a living tank. Seriously, who designed that enemy? It was a freaking gamebreaker! Somebody nerf that damn thing! Nerf it!

As if that wasn't enough, when I got past it (I stabbed it in the butt) I was confronted by a freaking gargoyle that proceeded to pleasure itself with my corpse while its buddy started torching my body with its freaking flamebreath! I was like, what the hell?! Once I got past them I had to fight a bunch of lightning dragons that kept flying and stunning me with their lightning breath. Luckily they were dumb as Shinji Matou and kept throwing themselves down the cliff, but they were still annoying. I'm about to enter blightown so wish me luck! I heard it's pretty hard so I'm going to go and mentally prepare myself for the stroke I'm about to have.

As for why I'm mentioning Dark Souls is because of the gear I'm making for Shirou. It's mostly going to resemble the armour Archer wears, but I'm going to alter some of it. I saw some really interesting armour in Dark Souls and I just had to incorporate it into the story.

It appears I'm rambling once again. I have to say, writing down my thoughts in the AN is a great way to get rid of stress, but I suppose I have to get the real AN on the way now.

First of all: No, I'm not going to introduce real werewolves in the story. I have limited knowledge of the Nasuverse and I'd rather not screw it up by making up things I have no idea about. I'm on thin ice as it is.

Second: Shirou's magecraft. Shirou knows projection (Tracing) and reinforcement. He was about to learn alteration when Kiritsugu died and his lessons with Lili were focused on runes, Formalcraft and alchemy. He knows very little on alteration and he is still trying to learn it even now in the middle ages. He knows basic elemental spells and healing spells, but he isn't very good at using them since they aren't his element. Furthermore, his martial arts are also in the works. He can't fight a full-grown man with just his skill, but coupled with magecraft and he can beat any normal human being. He hasn't developed his own style yet due to inexperience and his current style is pretty average.

Third: He won't be going around shooting noble phantasms like snowballs. He hasn't even seen any noble phantasms yet, with a few possible exceptions that he isn't aware of yet. He might have seen a few, but he doesn't know that yet. Most of what he's going to use are mystic codes or enchanted weapons. He might come across a few noble phantasms while he is in the Middle Ages, but they will be few and far apart.

Fourth: What weapon will Shirou use? Nota mystic code or noble phantasm, but the one he will be using for everyday use? Well, that's a surprise!

Fifth: I have no idea what the name for Sussex was before the Saxons invaded so I decided to use the name Sussex for the part they were in for convenience sake. I do know however that England wasn't as cold as I described it. The only reason I made it colder than it should be was because of an overlaying reason in the story. It will become apparent further into the story, but that will take a while.

* * *

><p><strong>AOB<strong>

The crowd was growing by the minute as all fifty inhabitants of Blackbay village poured into the tavern. The people walking into the worn down building were dressed the normal clothing in the area. Torn grey and brown clothes, hats that had long since lost their original shapes and had started resembling dirty hair more than anything else and filthy leather boots bought more than a decade ago which had been mended time and time again until none of the original leather was left. The people wearing the clothes looked little better. Scars covered the hands of both the men and the women, proof of living the life on the sea wielding hooks and net. The faces were grim and could have passed for being stone statues if it wasn't for the fact that the eyes were constantly flickering between the exit and the man in the stage.

These people had lived in Blackbay for decades, they had seen the toll the romans had taken on their village, they had lived through the invasion of the Saxons and they had survived the Wargs slaughtering them in their sleep. They had more sea salt in their veins than blood, something the neighbouring villages had noted with fear in the past when conflicts between them were common.

And now he had to convince them to leave their homes and fight…

Rowland wasn't sure he had been given the easy part of the plan, but he knew he wasn't going to like what was going to happen next.

"Well, Ah've never been one to give big speeches to crowds. Ah've usually let some other poor fool take that part. How are you all doing tonight?" He asked the village who had somehow managed to fit inside the tavern without much trouble.

The crowd gave a variety of responses. Some of the older folk gave complaints about their family, about how their step-son or daughters were useless while the younger generation seethed at the critique. Some of the fishermen gave a loud laugh and boasted of today's catch while the other fishermen grumbled about bad luck and how some people should have known better than to cheat. The children ignored the older villagers and gave simple innocent responses, not knowing what they were supposed to say.

"That's good! Haha, you know Robert is going to beat you next time you go out to sea, don't you?" Rowland said to the boastful fishermen holding a large fish in his hands, supposedly the largest fish caught in the southern sea. The man simply gave another fisherman, probably Robert, a smug grin at the challenge and was rewarded glare from the loser of the day.

A woman stood up from the chair she was sitting on and gave Rowland a small glare. "So what is all this about? Some of us have children to take care of and you call us into the tavern like you're the Viscount of Sussex." The woman who called him out said with a frown on her face. She was short and pudgy, carrying a child on her hip.

Lia, Baron Charles Distray's wife, had never liked him. It might have been because he had gotten her drunk enough on brittanian ale to dance on the table that one night, but it wasn't his fault. She should know her own limits, the lightweight that she is. The brat had never forgiven him for humiliating her in front of the neighbouring baron's wife. Ever since then she had taken every opportunity to insult him and his tavern in front of the village.

It didn't help that the only person in the land who hated him more than her was the baron himself.

"Lia Distray, Ah didn't see you there! It's been too long, lass! Tell me, how does it feel to be a mother now that you finally managed to carry a child?" he asked her. The baron's inability was quite well-known these days. The man was fifty years old, older than Rowland even. Despite that he had not been able to father any heirs for a long time. There had been rumours that the Saxons had done more than torture him in the last invasion. His wife had not been able to carry a child and when she died people thought the baron would have a child with his new wife soon, but it had taken more than a decade before the woman was with child.

The noblewoman looked appalled at the question. "I'll have you know Rowland, I have been ready for a child for ages. However my husband dear has been simply too preoccupied with the consequences of the invasion. Not that you would know anything about that would you? Your son didn't even have the chance to contribute." She glared at him, as if he would be affected by the venom in her eyes or her words.

"You mean he couldn't get his steel hard enough to pierce you?" he responded. The tavern broke out into laughter at the barb he had sent her way. "And don't give me any of that shit about duties and what else he was too busy with; there is no excuse for a man not capable of putting a child in his wife's belly, or at least not one incapable of trying."

Lia didn't respond to his insults, obviously knowing this was one battle she would not win. Rowland let her retreat to her chair, his anger at the mentioning of his family still burning fiercely in his heart. He wanted to continue, to humiliate her in front of the village, but he had more important things to do. If the lad came back and he had failed to convince the village because of his scuffle with the baron Distray's wife he would be in a heap of trouble. He didn't want to let the lad's hard work go to waste, not when it could mean the survival of the village.

But how was he supposed to tell them? He couldn't just blurt it out and let them deal with it. He had to get them into the mood for it first, to make them more agreeable to it. That was easier said than done. He had never liked speeches; he never had the talent or the patience for it. He had spent his time as a merchant and traded his wares then left in search of better wares to trade. All he could do was fall back to what he knew.

"Before Ah start Ah want to tell you a few things about what has been happening the last you days. Ah'm sure you remember the lad whose been coming in here the last few days, the lad with red hair and dark skin?" He asked the villagers. Most of them nodded in recognition; in a small community like Blackbay it would have been hard not to remember such a distinct face. Red hair and tanned skin was not a common feature in brittania even during the days of the Roman Empire and neither were golden-brown eyes the lad had. The fact that his English was broken and oddly twisted made him stand out even more than the fact that he couldn't understand even a single word of Latin, a language practiced by all the roman provinces. He had appeared a few days ago, injured and starving, but after just a day later he was all better, as if from magic. He had seen lots of things, but that had been a strange experience even by his standards.

Lia frowned at his question, not liking the way he started apparently. "Yes, we know who you're talking about. What of it, has he killed himself already? He's been spending a lot of time with the wolves, hasn't he?"

"No, he hasn't gotten himself killed you damn harpy. If you could keep quiet for two bloody moments so that Ah could explain you would know how he is these days!" He retorted in response to her insults at the lad. "Why are you here anyway, Lia, if your husband isn't? Have you nagged him till he finally kicked the bucket? Or did he kick you out when he found out the child you carry isn't his?"

"How dare you accuse me of that? I have been a supporting wife and mother and the child I bore is none other than the baron's, the fact that I'm here when my beloved isn't is merely proof that he trusts me with matters regarding his presence." She finished with what she probably though was an elegant wave of her hand, but when one accounted for the child on her hip and the mud on her clothes it merely looked presumptuous. The knowledge of being married to a nobleman, no matter how low the title of baron may be, had obviously gone to the woman's head. Not that he could blame her for it, considering the times and circumstances the feeling of being even slightly better off than the person next to you was a comfort better than even the strongest of ale.

Still it did not change the situation at hand and the measures necessary.

"Whether or not the brat is his or not doesn't change the fact he is needed at the moment. Where is he?" Rowland asked the woman who was surprised at his tone. It wasn't the voice he would use to insult or trade barbs with, just a low growling that sent her into a frightened stutter. The older generations of the tavern recognized his tone, his words bringing back memories from harsher times, simpler times. The younger ones in the tavern however were as surprised as Lia when he spoke. "Don't make me ask you again, woman."

Lia held the child I her arms, as if the boy who was barely a year old would defend her against the owner of the tavern. "You wouldn't dare strike me, Rowland. When my husband hears of your threats, he'll have your head on a spike…" she would have continued if Rowland hadn't taken a menacing step towards her.

"Ah wasn't making any threats, _Baroness_, Ah was giving you a warning. Where is Charles?" His voice thundered across the room, shaking those too young to have heard his anger before. Lia had never seen him angry before in her life, she had never managed to rile him up to the point of fury. Even now his anger was not directed at her, but at the loss of time her deflection meant.

As a result of his raised voice and the threat of bodily harm, Lia lost the pompous stance her station had previously given her and she shrank, holding her baby close to her chest in comfort. "He's at home in bed. The news Sir Ludvig brought were too great for his heart and the healer does not think he'll make it past the month. I'm here in his stead."

Rowland relaxed and pondered over what the baroness had said. Was it a good thing Charles was dying or was it just bad news? If Charles had been here he might have opposed the plan with fervour, knowing he, as the baron of Hastings, was the only one the Wargs would allow to leave before the invasion and any attempts to eradicate them would put him in harm's way. Lia on the other would want to survive the invasion and the only way to do so would be to leave the village and hide from the initial attack.

On the other hand, if Lia had truly let her position go to her head then she might think her life was worth more to the duke than it actually was. He didn't think the woman he had seen grow up from a little lass bruising her knees while fighting the boys of the village would ever lose her sense of reality like that, but he barely knew the lady anymore. He couldn't say for certain that she would actually care about the village enough to help them against the threat of extinction at the risk of her own life and the life of her child. The Wargs might see her as someone of importance and let her leave the village, or their feral minds might just see her as another bag of meat trying to escape their little farm. Whatever the case may be, it didn't change the fact that Lia was now acting baroness of Hastings.

"If that is true…" He looked at Lia to confirm what she was she said was true and she nodded hastily, not in the mood for another furious shouting. "…Then it means that Lia Distray is now the acting Baroness of Hastings and she will be acknowledged as such until the viscount deigns her son to be the baron. Understood?" The tavern had been quiet until he addressed the people within and a loud chorus of "Aye!" responded.

"Moving on, Ah was talking about the lad, wasn't Ah? Right, after he recovered from whatever it was that had happened to him, he went into the forest as the baroness told us. When he came back he brought with him wolves, dead wolves." The tavern which had been somewhat quiet until now lost all sound at the mentioning of the beasts of the forest. Out of surprise, hatred or simple fear was unknown, but what mattered was that he had the undivided attention of all of Blackbay at this point. There wasn't a human around who wasn't listening with trepidation or spiteful joy.

"Apparently he was a pretty good hunter because the wolves he caught weren't the ones we see around the cattle we have. These wolves were larger than that, much larger than the wolves that come to the village. Ah think they were the pups of the Wargs." He said and the only sound coming from the villagers was the crying of the baron's boy.

"He brought them back for me to skin, but let me tell you Ah had never seen a beast like that in my whole damn life. Looked more like a bear than wolf, Ah tell you. The leather was thicker too, much thicker than a damn grey wolf. It was definitely Warg-spawn and the lad brought back three of them in a single day, not a single scratch on him. Ah couldn't believe it, not after what Ah've seen, not after what we've been through. Heh, the merchant Ah sold the pelts to didn't believe his eyes, Ah was actually able to barter with him for twice the price they were actually worth, hahahaha!" His laughter echoed throughout the tavern once more and the people around him joined in. The only merchants who travelled to this part of the land were the greedy ones who didn't mind the biting cold. Cheating one of them for another pouch of silver was a joy to them all.

"Anyway, I asked him how he had killed them and he told me how: Magic!" That stopped the laughter completely. Whether or not they believed him was up in the air, but he had them hooked. Wizards were a mysterious bunch and few were known and even less trusted. They knew not to trust a sorcerer; the rumours of Morgana the witch had travelled from Camelot in Wales and spread fear in the people who heard them. Merlin may have been associated with the king's court, but even he was known to trick the people around him for pleasure. Someone who could manipulate the elements and turn you into a frog was not someone to cross, even if that certain someone came in the form of a child.

"Are you serious, Rowland?" Geoffrey, the boastful fishermen said. He had put the fish down and was holding his shirt frantically at the news of the little strange child. When Rowland responded in the positive he let out a despairing whine. "What am I going to do now? I was the one who put peppers in the boy's water. He's going to kill me! Rowland, you have to do something. You're on good terms with him, he'll listen to you!"

Rowland remembered the incident with the spicy water. The lad had ordered a bowl of stew with roman spices and a mug of water, only the water had turned out to be spicier than the stew itself. Poor lad hadn't noticed that the water was the reason he had the stomach ache until the bowl was finished and he started gulping down the water like a man in a desert. Geoffrey had always been a prankster as a child and his age had only enabled him to pull off more expensive pranks. And now he was worried that the lad was going to kill him for it.

He really wished he had been able to take advantage of Geoffrey's idiocy beforehand, if only to teach the fool a lesson in how to treat his fellow tavern-goers.

"Don't worry about it, you bloody fool! He's not here to kill you, but Ah have half a mind to do it now that Ah know how you treat people in me tavern!" He told Geoffrey who had started shaking by now. "Honestly, you just keep getting dumber and dumber for each year Ah know you. Pretty soon you'll try to cheat the Fae just for couple of fishes to win against Robert, won't you?! Bloody fool!" The earlier tension disappeared and now the tavern was filled with laughter.

As Geoffrey calmed down, Lia stood back up. "So where is he? If it is important enough to warrant a town meeting like this then surely he would be here with us. Yet I don't see the foreigners face and you haven't even told us his name." She made a good point now that she wasn't looking down on him like she was the queen of Britannia.

"Uh, Ah don't know his name. He told me what it was once, but it was something weird and hard to say. Shroo, Sheira, Shaloo, Sh… Whatever, it was a stupid name anyway." He coughed into his hand to conceal his failure to remember the name and the villagers snickered. "As for the reason he isn't here is because a few days ago he came to me and told me he saw the Wargs."

And just like that, the deathly tension was brought back down on them like someone had forced them to the bottom of the ocean.

"And he's not dead?" Lia continued, but one could tell she was holding the baby close to her chest, as if the close proximity to her would protect it from the dangers of the forest.

"No, in fact he's out there now, trying to find their den." He would never admit it, but he derived a secret pleasure from the shock on the faces of every villager present. Lia had the pale face, open mouth-reaction while Geoffrey had the less common eyes wide open, curl into a foetal position and whimper-reaction. Robert simply fainted and the entire tavern broke out into gasps of shock and thinks from the people who fainted. Lia, like always, recovered first and let loose a string of stuttering questions.

"Are you mad? Is he mad? Why on earth would anyone want to find their home? He'll be killed out there, they'll rip him to shreds and then they come for us. Is that what you want? Do you really want to join your family that badly, Rowland?!" she half-screamed, half-growled at him while holding the head of her son to her bosom.

The reactions of the rest of the village were pretty much the same. Furious yelling, intense crying, despaired screaming, all mixed into a jarring cacophony dangerously close to deafening him for good. He had to yell above the mass of people to make himself heard over the glaring noise of the villagers of Blackbay. No matter what happened, he would never again say Blackbay was a quiet village, not after this night was through.

"Would you bloody wankers shut it for one second so Ah can explain?!" His own thundering voice towered over the rest of the village, partially because he had prepared for it and took the spot on the stage where it was easiest to be heard and partially because his size enabled him to be as loud as he needed to be. The villagers started to quiet down until all he could hear was the angry mumbling of the people furthest away, those who hadn't seen him angry before and didn't feel as frightened as the ones who had been in close proximity when he had yelled at Lia before.

"Thank you for letting me explain why he is out there, risking his life for your sorry arses. As many of you know, the Saxon invasion is coming soon and this is most likely the place they'll choose to invade once more. If we don't leave, then we'll be killed by fifteen thousand Saxon coming to burn our homes and steal our valuables. But if too many of us try to leave then we'll be slaughtered like pigs trying to escape the slaughterhouse by the Wargs." At this a few of the villagers started to grudgingly nod at his reasoning and a few lost the poison in their glares.

"In order to leave we have to deal with the Wargs since Ah doubt a pack of Wargs can compare to fifteen thousand Saxons with armour and weapons. The lad, or whatever his name is, came up with a plan to increase our chances of survival. Those of you who are willing to survive can help us, those of you want to die a sad and lonely death can leave now." Not a single person left. "Good, now Ah'm a bit lost on the details, but the plan is really simple. The lad, or the hunter or whatever you want to call him, is out there trying to find their lair. When he finds it, he is going to lay out a few traps in order to kill as many as possible. He will then return here to guard as a sentinel. When the Wargs activate the traps they will attack the village in revenge. The lad has already set out hundreds of traps in the fields between the village and the forest and when they charge us they will be caught in the traps. While they are hurt by the traps he will shoot them with magic arrows and kill them from a difference. That is part one of the plan."

He spoke in monotone, as if he had rehearsed it all. In fact, the lad had rehearsed the entire plan with him in order to make the village understand how they could best help with their limited experience fighting.

"The second part is where we come in. Those of us who don't want to fight will jump in the boats and wait out at sea. If we lose the battle and die then the survivors will sail north, to Rye. The rest of us will stay here and arm ourselves with whatever we can find. We'll barricade ourselves in the village and let the lad kill from a distance. If they reach the village we'll hold them off until the lad can kill them with his bow." The plan had been simplified to an almost ridiculous degree in order to make the villagers understand it better. The lad had explained why the Wargs would attack from the forest and charge them, he had explained why he would lay only a few traps in the den while the majority would be used on the fields, he had even explained what kind of arrows he would use to kill the beasts, but there wasn't any point in telling the people of Blackbay any of that. They wouldn't understand any of it and it would only make them more suspicious of his actions if they didn't understand his motives.

Looking around at the faces of the villagers he was not surprised at what he saw. He saw anger at being forced into the situation at hand, frustration at not knowing about it beforehand, fury at having to choose between their homes and their lives.

Strangely enough, none of their hostility was aimed at neither him nor the lad.

"If we stay and fight…" Geoffrey started. "…What are the chances we'll survive?"

"Hell if Ah know, Ah'm just as uncertain as you when it comes to odds. Can a single man kill a Warg? Hell no! Can two men kill a Warg? Probably not. Can three men kill a Warg? Perhaps if they are lucky. Four men? Possibly. A village of fifty people with a sorcerer who can fight better than grown men? Ah'm certain we can eradicate them from our lands, but to think we can do it without anyone dying would just be bloody foolish. Ah'm not here to give you false hope, Ah'm here to make it through the year without being turned to wolf-feed by the Wargs or a rotting corpse by the Saxons. What you do is up to you." He wasn't going to take responsibility for the village. The baron had that duty and he had failed it in order to keep his reputation. If the people wanted to survive they had to take it upon themselves to see that through.

He didn't want to fight the Wargs or the Saxons, but he wasn't going to wait for the slaughter like a pig. If there was a chance he would be able to live through it by betting on the lad with magic, then he was going to bet on the lad with magic.

The villagers were whispering among themselves now, wondering what their neighbour or friend was going to do, if they were going to stay and fight or flee from the danger. He didn't blame them for that, it was normal to want to know what everybody else was doing so they wouldn't look like a coward or a maniac. They might have more salt than blood in their veins, but that didn't mean they liked to lose what little blood they had. It was a difficult choice, not one he wanted to force on them, but drastic measures had to be taken. If the village didn't want to save itself then it was doomed to begin with.

"Those of you who wish to flee can go home and pack your things. The attack will probably commence tomorrow so you'll have an entire day to pack. Those who want to fight can meet me by the gate; bring whatever weapons and tools you can find. We'll need them."

He left through the door, not looking back, not giving them a chance to ask him any questions.

Not giving them chance to panic from the fear.

Not giving them a chance to see his face ashen with fear.

**AOB**

He was by the gate and had already begun barricading the village from within. He hadn't thought much about how the village was built until now, but now that he was actually building onto it he noticed the little things. Blackbay was not a typical fishing village. It had originally been built a hundred years ago in a circular form and had focused on fishing and trading. As the trade with the mainland had blossomed, so had the village and building had been added. When the Saxons invaded however it had taken a heavy blow, one it still hadn't recovered from. Most of the buildings in the outer ring had been burnt down and only the buildings in the heart of Blackbay had survived the attack. When the rebuilding of the town had started they did not have the time to hire carpenters and had been forced to build houses next to each other for support, creating a linear path unlike any villages Rowland had ever seen before.

It wasn't that he hadn't noticed the way the village had been rebuilt, it was just the fact that he had never truly appreciated it before.

Had the village been circular he would have had to change the direction of the fences he was building, but since it was a straight line from start to finish he didn't need that. He could simply erect a fence one after another, faster than any normal village carpenter should have been able to.

Of course, it wasn't the impressive walls he had seen during his merchant days. Even if the entire village helped it would have been impossible to erect walls around the entire town in time for the attack. Instead he had made a simple fence with spikes protruding from it. It was sturdy enough to hold off a Wargs for a few minutes and any monster trying to ram it or climb it would be poked full of holes and bleed to death. It was inelegant, but as the lad had said; "If it looks stupid but it's working, it ain't not stupid." Wiser words had never been said.

"So need any help over there?" A voice spoke up from behind him. He turned and was surprised at the number of people behind him.

About twenty people had gathered behind him, all wielding some kind of farm equipment or tool. From pitchforks to hammers, fishing spears and scythes, axes and blades, all of them were armed and their expressions set in stony determination. The one who spoke up, Geoffrey, stood in front.

"Ah could use a hand in setting up the fences. Think you can handle it, lad?" Rowland said, his own weapon, a large axe he bought as a weapon against bandits long ago, strapped to his back.

Geoffrey grinned and picked up a sharpened pole and started nailing it to the spear. "I could probably build a fence better than the Wall of Hadrian if I wanted to."

Rowland laughed and the rest of the people joined in to help. "Ah hope your fighting is better than your building, if it's not then you might as well join the woman in the boats." The rest of the men joined in on the laughter.

Geoffrey lost his grin and started focusing on building the spiked fence instead. After a minute or so he turned to Rowland again. "How come we never tried this before? You know, the whole escaping by boat up north?"

Rowland stopped for a second, looked around to see the other villages to busy working to pay attention, and then turned to Geoffrey again. "We did, lad, when you were just a wee boy. We tried to take to the sea, but there weren't enough boats for all of us so none of us left and we stayed here fishing."

"But now we have enough boats to leave and instead we choose to stay?"

Rowland shrugged. "We have three boats and each boat can take ten people at most."

Geoffrey stopped what he was doling. "Wait…. But you said everyone could leave if they wanted…"

"I know what Ah said, boy and Ah meant it, but if you had the choice between letting the entire village die and letting half the village die, which would you choose?" Rowland said in a small growl.

Geoffrey paused and thought about it.

"How do we stop the rest from finding out? They might not want to help if they know you were lying to them"

"They already know, boy. They already know."

In the gathering of twenty men, not a single one of them thought they were going to survive the night.

**AOB**

Shirou had decided that he didn't like stalking phantasmal beasts.

Stalking in general was a nerve-wracking experience, one he had little experience in at all. One had to be careful not to make too much sound, even if you wore runes that concealed the noises generated by your feet touching the ground. Keeping out of sight was even more important, if the prey saw you it would run away, or in the case of phantasmal beasts, run towards you and tear you into tiny little pieces.

It was most of all exhausting. He had left he village about five hours ago and he was still following the trail left by the wolf. He had been worried that he had gone the wrong way, but the scent of wolves growing stronger said otherwise. He was sure the Wargs were around here somewhere, but he had no way of knowing how much longer it was. Even if he had brought food with him, which he hadn't in case the Wargs could smell whatever sustenance he brought with him, he would still had been hungry from the pure energy he had spent walking.

Why couldn't they just make it easy for him? Were all phantasmal beasts this annoying? He had heard tales of heroes fighting monsters and saving villages, but there had been no mention of the journey to the monster itself. In the legends it had been the hero, the monster, the damsel in distress and the ending. He hadn't even met the monster yet and he was already thinking the worst was over, that it was all downhill from here. He was actually kind of glad he hadn't traced any weapon yet aside from the arrows. The arrows were cheap and almost didn't take any prana to trace, but swords were another matter. He could trace hundreds of nameless blades without effort, but it didn't change the fact that his circuits had to activate completely for him to do that. Had he traced a sword in the beginning of the journey he would have been exhausted from the walk while having activated circuits on full alert for hours. The result would have been a mentally and physically exhausted Shirou wandering into the territory of the Wargs. He didn't think it would have been such a good idea to make himself an easy target, but maybe the Wargs would be too confused to take advantage of it.

Nevertheless he had some success at least. He could drink water since it didn't matter in the damp forest if he spilled some on the ground. He had also seen a Warg.

Yes, he had seen a Warg.

In fact, he was stalking it right now. It was feasting on the carcass of some poor animal, ripping it apart in a most horrifying manner, one that made Shirou almost want to vomit. He had seen a lot of disgusting things in the fire, but there was something incredibly sinister and degrading about the way the beast tore the animal apart. It was not like how a lion would eat from a zebra or wildebeest, where the predator was simply feeding from the meal it had worked for. In the wild predators were not evil or mean, they simply lived and ate. Killing was not the act of taking a life, but the act necessary in maintaining their own.

Wargs were not natural predators. There was nothing necessary about the way the Wargs stood on top of the prey and clawed and tore at the meat. It didn't even eat all of it. It would grab an organ, bite and rip it to pieces and then simply throw it away to begin the process all over again. It broke the bones of its prey for no reason whatsoever other than to humiliate and disfigure the corpse. What little it ate was just as bizarre. The heart, the brain, a foot and the stomach, not the most delicious parts and certainly not the most nutritious ones either.

Everything pointed to the Wargs being intelligent yet evil. That is why he didn't hesitate to send an arrow through the phantasmal beast's head when it wasn't looking.

It was almost too easy. He notched the arrow with wind runes on it to enhance the speed and piercing power and drew the string back completely. He took careful aim at the Warg's skull and released the arrow. It was silent due to the properties of the wind arrow. It didn't need to fight through the space between the target and it as the wind helped to part it when it approached in a tunnel of displaced air. The distance between the Warg and Shirou was fifty meters, but the arrow crossed that gap in a second. In a shower of blood and gore, the brain of the beast exploded from the pressure the broadhead arrowpoint released in the enclosed space of its skull, the velocity and mass of the projectile akin more to a round from a sniper rifle rather than that of an English longbow. There was no exit wound, just a large gaping hole where the Warg's eyes should have been.

He was shocked at the result. He had drawn another arrow and notched it before he realized the effectiveness the arrow had on the beast. It was almost too effective to be true. He had read about the phantasmal beasts in his textbooks and had thought they were unstoppable killing machines, incapable of being injured except by the most powerful of weapons. His arrows may have been enhanced by the magecraft he wielded, but in the end they were made from mundane materials without any special properties or abilities. Only runes to increase velocity and penetrating power.

This was ridiculous. He had spent the last few hours in complete agony at the thought of confronting the Warg pack, but a single arrow had taken one of them out. There was something obviously wrong about this, some factor about the beast that he was missing. It was on the tip of his tongue, as if that certain piece of information had been hidden from his thoughts by a veil that continued to evade his attempts at discovering it.

What could he have missed? What was wrong with the picture in front of him? A single wolf-like monster, tearing its prey to pieces. A single wolf eating from its prey. A single wolf…

Wolves hunt in packs.

He dodged to the side as quickly as his body would let him. The clawed limb that had threatened to take his head off in a single swing missed by an inch instead tore harmlessly into dull brown fabric. Fabric which had been reinforced to the toughness of leather and his only line of defence.

He turned around to see the hidden enemy he had missed and somewhere in his mind he realized why the Warg he had just sniped had been so easily killed.

"So it was just a puppy. Crap."

The Warg in front of him was twice as tall as the one he had killed just moments earlier and probably its parent judging by the fierce snarl it was releasing from its impressive jaws. The fur was a dirty brown, sticky with blood and gore. It obviously didn't care about hygiene, he absently noted.

It charged him on all fours and he barely had time to register the act before it was upon him. He reinforced his limbs and jumped up in an attempt to avoid the predator's dangerous charge. It swiped it claws at the spot he had been in just moments before. The Warg's desire to rip his throat out had made it rush him without control and the momentum carried it forward in a straight line, its claws leaving large tracks in the ground.

Shirou landed and notched and arrow to fire, but the Warg was too fast for the projectile to strike it. The arrow which had so effectively killed its cub was unable to land a clean strike and instead struck its shoulder, penetrating the flesh and sliding through the body of the beast to exit it and stop in a tree. The monster, because there was no other word to describe it as at the moment, didn't even acknowledge the injury, instead choosing to charge him once more. The arrow should have cut the musculature and broken the bones, but it didn't seem to register these wounds as relevant, only the death of the prey in its sights. In the second it had taken Shirou to understand the sheer tenacity of the Warg, the Papa Wolf had closed the gap between them and brought its massive claws down in an attempt to cut his skull into parallel slices.

Had he not thought of an appropriate sword beforehand he might not have had the time to trace the falchion in his hands and brought it up to slice the aforementioned limb off from the wrist of the monster. The clawed hand itself fell down on Shirou's head and although the claws missed him, the force of the lost limb still managed to knock his head and disorientate him. Stars exploded into his vision as he had to fight to stay on his feet, not to fall down and become easy prey for the phantasmal beast in front of him.

He was probably lucky. The enraged Warg had the opportunity to use its jaws to bite down on his head, crushing it and killing him in the process. Instead it flailed its other arm, the one made obsolete by his earlier arrow and knocked him into the air. The impact took the breath right out of his lungs and he gasped. He flew through the air, he might even have flipped over once, but he was too disoriented to notice. He was too busy trying to force the air back into his lungs. He hit the ground hard and he rolled a few times to ease his landing if even a little. As soon as he was able to he stood up and located his enraged opponent, the Warg already charging him once more. Though it still had the same fierce anger in its appearance, his fear was slightly lessened when he saw the state the Warg was in. The left arm was useless, the shoulder having been destroyed by his attack earlier and the right arm was a bleeding stump.

He could do this. The Warg's most dangerous weapon was its speed and that was on four legs. If it was forced to move on two legs would be slower and he had already weakened it enough to finish it off. Unlike before he now had time to aim his bow.

The arrow was notched and the strong drawn and just as the Warg was about to leap at him and bite him to bits, he released the arrow straight at its chest. Straight at its heart…

The Papa Wolf dropped to the ground, the arrow having taken most of the momentum out of the leap. It was releasing a low growl, its famous last words perhaps and he decided to put it out of its misery. He let loose another arrow, this time aimed at its skull. The arrow hit its mark and the beast stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped living.

Shirou collapsed on the ground. His veins were pumped full of adrenaline and his legs twitched from exertion. Had he really just fought a phantasmal beast? His breathing devolved into a series of short gasps and he felt a strange urge to empty his stomach. His body followed the urge, only to find he didn't have anything to regurgitate.

He really needed to get something to eat, he thought.

As he finished his bout of dry heaving, he shakily tried to stand up. It was hard considering the fact that he had been hit on the head just minutes earlier, but he managed. He wasn't injured, or even hurt for that matter despite him almost being mauled by the angry mass of death and malice. It was luck, pure and simple, unfiltered luck was the reason he was still alive and ticking after that encounter. By all accounts he should be dead. The Warg had ambushed him and had the advantage in speed and power. The first hit he made on it had been a lucky strike and the second had been one as well. The third and final hit had been on purpose, but only possible due the incredible luck from the first two strikes.

He didn't think it would be like that every time he fought Wargs. Wargs hunted in packs most likely so that meant more of them were on their way and he doubted they would let him fight them one-on-one. He needed to hide and rest for a bit, recover his strength and get his heartbeat down to appropriate levels. He didn't want his heart to burst out of his chest after only one fight.

He barely had time to climb up a tree before he heard the incoming pack of Wargs close in on the crime scene. He hid himself in the canopy, the leafy camouflage concealing his brown and green clothes with surprising ease. He parted a few branches to see the horde of predators.

There were four of them, though nowhere near as large as Papa Wolf. They were larger than the puppy he had killed, but the tallest, a black Warg with scars over its face and a snout covered in blood, stood at about two meters, and didn't look nearly as frightening as Papa Wolf with his two and a half meters in length. The large one was obviously the leader as the three others were about one and a half meters and unlike the large one which moved and sniffed around the small clearing, they were as still as wild animals could be, only moving their head to observe the surroundings. When one of them took a step forward, the black one released a loud snarl and the smaller Warg sat down, having been properly chastised.

The black Warg reached the carcass of Papa Wolf and he could see the difference between them. Papa Wolf was larger and brown, with bulging muscles over its chest and an elongated snout, much like its puppy Shirou had put down moments earlier. Scarface, as Shirou decided to call the black Warg, was smaller with a dirty black fur and the snout was shorter and the skull thicker. They weren't related Shirou assumed, wolves had little difference in appearance compared to humans. For these two individual wolves to look so different probably meant they were not that close in terms of genetics.

Scarface raised its head and let out a long howl, louder than anything Shirou had ever heard before. His eardrums hurt in his head and he covered his ears with his hands to dampen the racked the wolf was making. Were they saddened by the death of their comrade? Wolves were social creatures so it was a theory that meant…

And it was a theory which could be thrown out the window as Scarface brought its jaws down on Papa Wolf's throat and tore it out in a gush of blood.

The way Scarface started eating the larger Warg was even more gruesome than the way Puppy had eaten the deer it had been feasting on. Puppy was inexperienced compared to Scarface and a lot less malicious. Scarface didn't eat Papa Wolf, it desecrated his carcass. Using the same methods as Puppy, but with more violence and strength it took less than ten minutes before Papa Wolf had been scattered into pieces all over the clearing. While Scarface had been busy eating the parent, the smaller Wargs had discreetly made their way over to Puppy and were now emulating their leader in humiliating the carcass of their fellow werewolf-lookalike. They each gripped a part of Puppy and tug at him, trying to get the biggest piece possible. The most horrifying part was that they didn't eat what they got, they only threw the limbs on the ground to go for more flesh from the main body. This wasn't the behaviour of a predator. Cannibalism can be found in animals, but not like this. Predators didn't tear animals into pieces for pleasure.

Shirou made up his mind.

The Wargs had to go.

They weren't natural beings. Phantasmal beasts came in all shapes and sizes, but this particular species was pure evil, more so than Dead Apostles. Dead Apostles were capable of thought and some of them might even be good once they overcame their lust for blood. But these monsters were pure evil, no sense of right or wrong or even necessity. They committed evil for the sake of evil, nothing more.

The Wargs had finished their `Meal´, eating their distant cousins, but leaving the deer untouched. Papa Wolf and Puppy were unrecognisable smears on the grass, no piece bigger than a fist had survived the mauling of Scarface or his three subordinates, with the only exception being the head of Papa Wolf which Scarface had left considerable intact. Shirou almost felt sorry for them. They had at one point been living creature had it not been for Shirou, but now their own kin had destroyed any sign of them being alive in the first place. If it weren't for the fact that Shirou was going to save the village and the fact that the Wargs had terrorized the village for years and killed Rowland's family he might have pitied them, but at the moment he couldn't feel any sorrow for the monsters.

Scarface swallowed the last piece of Papa Wolf he could find and turned to his subordinates. They noticed his movements and turned towards him. The alpha of the group turned to the trail they had arrived from and bit down on Papa Wolf's skull, lifting it up and carried it with him before leaping onto the trail and vanishing from sight, the subordinates close behind him. They didn't even so much as look back on the clearing where two of their kind had just been savagely torn apart,

Shirou waited for a while before he slid down the tree, unsure if they were going to come back for some unknown reason. He had known the Wargs were beasts, but this had been beyond his expectations. That they would do this to their own kind and a relative was not something he would have thought possible, but he had seen it with his own eyes. They needed to be put down to ensure the survival of the humans in Blackbay. If they were by some chance spread to the other forests in England the people all across the land would suffer from it. The question was…

Could he do it?

Even with magic and training from the Magus Killer, Shirou felt fear creep into his heart. He had never seen something so horrifying. Even when Kiritsugu had told him of the things he saw he hadn't believed it, not willing to believe that something so vile could be done by living things, intelligent beings with a soul. Kiritsugu had told him to believe it, to understand that not all humans were good and that evil will always exist. Were the Wargs just one of these evils in the world?

He took a step towards the trail, willing those thoughts away from his mind. He stopped when he felt something mushy under his shoes and looked down. He had stepped on a patch of brown fur covered in blood and small pieces of flesh. The blood had splattered when he stepped on it and the liquid had sprayed all over his sneakers. He grimaced at the red spots covering his previously white sneakers. They had been bought just a week before he came to this time and had survived the dirt of the fifth century incredibly well, but now the blood had soaked his shoes and he could feel his socks getting wet from a disgustingly warm liquid that was seeping through.

He really hated Wargs.

**AOB**

Rowland was spent. Even with the help of the villagers, getting the village prepared for an attack was hard work. The walls had been made and weapons had been collected, a few had even scrounged up some old bows bought from a travelling merchant. They would at least help when keeping the Wargs back, but the hide of the damned things would repel the weaker arrows like they were nothing. The only one who was confident in using a bow was old man Jon, a lanky fellow who looked like he was one step in the grave already. At least he would die like a man if he kicked the bucked the next day. He didn't think the shrivelled up husk would want to die in a bed, he had too much pride for that.

They had retreated to the tavern and everyone, including the ones who would be taking off in boats were, were drinking ale and singing merrily. The old sang with the young, the men courted the women, and the poor were being treated to alcohol by the more fortunate members of the village. It was a sight he had not seen a long time, his tavern filled with people singing and drinking and all of them smiling. It wasn't because they thought they were going to survive, it was because they knew they were going to die soon. Instead of grumbling about the unfairness of it all, they instead wanted to spend their last day with the ones they loved and didn't love quite as much. They were tough like that, they didn't break under pressure like he had feared they would.

He himself was holding a flagon of wine in his hands and was gulping it down like it was water. He had saved the wine for a special occasion, but if he was going to die tomorrow then he would be damned if the Saxons were going to get to reap the rewards for his patience. The wine was his and no man or beast was going to stop him from drinking every single drop of it. After half the flagon was empty he let out a loud belch, one that roared over the chatter of the villagers and they laughed at the sound of it.

"Laugh it up, you lightweights! Ah'd like to see you wankers drink half as much as Ah can. You'd sleep on the floor before the hour is over." He said to everyone present and the younger men raised their goblets and emptied them in challenge. Though he doubted anyone of them would prove to be a challenge. Most of them were dozing off already and the ones who looked somewhat sober were old and knew their limits. They wouldn't be gulping down ale any time soon.

"You look like you're having fun." Lia said next to him.

The acting baroness was surprisingly not holding her child in her arms, having put to rest hours earlier. The tavern was loud and not the place for sleeping child. Lia had however decided to spend a few hours drinking herself silly, having forgotten what happened the last time she indulged herself in the alcoholic beverage. She was already looking flushed and ready to keel over, but the mother had apparently developed a resistance since last time and despite the amount of ale she had poured down her gullet she had not danced on a single table. Progress.

"Ah simply know how to enjoy the small things in life. And the bigger ones too, though Ah seem to forget what the difference between them are nowadays. Ah could have sworn you were taller than a dwarf last time we met, but now you look like you could fit in me palm." Indeed, the lass looked like she was no larger than an acorn.

"You're drunk, Rowland." Lia giggled. "And stupid, but we all knew that."

"Oh bugger off, it's not every day Ah get to drink like this and Ah haven't even gotten to the bottom of the mug." He said and took another swig of wine.

"I'd understand your feelings if it weren't for the fact that it's a flagon you're drinking from, not a mug and you're swinging from side to side like a wind chime." She pointed out to the tavern owner. He looked shocked.

"Is that why the house is tilting so much? Ah thought Ah was going mad! Now Ah need to drink even more." With that he started chugging down the wine, small droplets escaping his maw and dripping down his beard. The people around him started cheering him on as he emptied the clay pitcher. Lia giggled as she saw the younger men imitate him and grab smaller pitchers to drink down. None of them finished their containers as they dropped their heads on the table, asleep and waking up with a headache, unlike Rowland who finished with aloud belch once more and wiped his mouth with his beard.

"Finally…" he said, but stopped as he had to grip the table to support himself. "Ah thought me tavern was never going to stop spinning." Though he apparently understood what he had done as he raised the flagon once more for a drink and realized he had emptied the pitcher of wine. "Damn, somebody get me another mug."

Lia probably saw this as an opportunity to retire. "I need to leave now, Rowland. The boats leave early in the morning and most of us are going to have a headache. Someone needs to take charge of the boats before we set sail and judging by the look on Geoffrey and Robert and their drinking contest, we're going to have to look for a new captain."

Rowland sighed. "Aye, you're probably right, lass. Those fools might even die before they meet the Wargs even." His tone softened. "Take care of yourself, lass. They are going to need someone to lead them regardless of we win or lose."

"Of course I'm right, who do you think I am? I'm the baroness of Hastings. Who else would lead them? Your little magician?" she grinned at him.

"Ah'm serious, be careful. The Wargs are evil, unlike anything you'll ever face. If you see them run, run as if it's the devil himself."

Rowland's voice brought Lia back down from the delirious intoxication and she sobered up a little. "I will. Goodbye Rowland, I hope we'll see you again soon."

She left before he said goodbye, knowing this was the last chance they would see each other. This would be the last time an uncle would see his niece and the last time a niece would see her uncle.

**AOB**

In the middle of the night, a scream would be heard in the village of Blackbay. The villagers would rush out of their houses wielding pitchforks and other farming equipment. They would follow the direction of the scream, fear filling their veins with ice. They would burst into the house of the victim and the Warg responsible of the crime would flee at the interruption of its meal.

Rowland stepped in front of the mob and looked down at what were once two humans, a mother and her child.

"Damn it, Lia."

Hastings was without a baron once more.


	7. Chapter 7

_Archer of Black_

_Chapter 7: Complications_

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><p>Once more I found myself playing that infernal game called Dark Souls. After having lost close to ten thousand souls in blightown I discovered thanks to a reviewer (Thank you GreyMan19) that I was entering through a side entrance. As I started to beat my head bloody against the wall, I try to find a way to get back and do it the proper way instead.<p>

That was when I remembered that I awoke an Undead Dragon on my way to the side entrance and I had locked myself in with the damn thing. Since I needed to kill the damn thing anyway I decided to try my hand at dragonslaying. To make a long story short, I was poisoned and I died. Turns out I used all my blooming moss-things (I can't remember the real name for it.) in blightown and the dragon made short work of me. So instead of fighting it head-on like I usually do, I spent half an hour shooting arrows at it. I usually don't use a bow in games so I don't buy the stronger more expensive arrows and I use the standard bow you can buy early on. So as I tried to kill the dragon with a toothpick which took about ten HP at a time, I found myself wondering why I even bother. Then I remembered: FOR THE LOOT!

The problem was that the dragon only dropped a dragon scale... and nothing else.

F*ck.

So I started writing AOB again, hoping my eventual stroke would wait for just a few moments until I can calm myself down and I found it oddly relaxing. So here I am, sick with the flu and stressed out of my mind, writing fanfiction. Where did my life go wrong?

Anyway, back to the story.

I think my biggest problem when writing a story is how to segment it into bite-sized chunks. When I write AOB I just want to jump straight into the asskicking parts and leave out the boring dialog. Even when I know the dialog is more entertaining than the bloody action scenes I want to skip the talking and the thinking and the boring plot of the story. Simply trying to get the right amount of battle to mix with the right amount of slice-of-life is so hard I can't begin to describe the anguish I go through to keep the story good.

However I shall persevere, for you the reviewers and all the delightful reviews you leave. And that is why I write this AN.

1: The falchion used by Shirou in the previous chapter is not Kanshou or Bakuya. He has not seen them yet and I'm not sure he will. The reason he used a falchion is revealed in the chapter below.

2: His armour is going to be built slowly over time as will his reputation as a soldier and warrior. Right now he's a boy in a fishing village with some weird powers. Even if the people are afraid of magic, they won't take him serious because they see just a kid with dirty shoes and weird clothes. His swords are also on the way to evolve in a certain sense. Right now he only has nameless swords and a few Mystic Codes in his Reality Marble (Which he doesn't know about yet), but that is going to change.

3: There was hardly any mentioning of Lia. I was actually a little disappointed. In the beginning she was going to play a larger role and then get killed, but I didn't want to introduce an OC and let her get a major role only to be killed and upset the readers, but it appears that my downplayed her role too much. Introducing her and killing her in a single chapter seems to have made her relevance… irrelevant. Fudge it.

I'm thinking of updating ROTE next, just to get the revision and the half-completed chapter out of the way. The revision is mostly done, just a few tweaks in the plot left, but the chapter is the one thing I'm having trouble with. I can't seem to get any progress with it. Like a writer's block.

Meh, it'll sort itself out eventually.

On another note, I'm currently looking for a Beta. My writing is unfortunately taking ablow from the fact that My native language is Swdish and not English. The only requirement I have if you to be my Beta is that you have written a story of your own and you are a from a country that has Engslish as it native language.

See ya!

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><p><strong>AOB<strong>

Lia was dead.

His niece, the only family he had left, was dead. Torn apart by the Wargs he had decided to kill before anyone he knew would be harmed again.

His niece, the one who had alienated him after her marriage with the baron, had been murdered protecting her son. Her son who had been ripped open by the same beast which had killed his mother.

His last relative, the niece who had left him and hated him, the one who had just recently made him think they could finally be a family again, had been killed the day before she would be free from the curse of Blackbay and the dangers of the Saxons.

"Rowland, what are we going to do now? Without Lia to explain our situation to the viscount we'll be branded as murderers before we can defend ourselves." Geoffrey said as he sat down in the tavern. They had taken Lia and her boy to the shed, the place all corpses were kept until a coffin could be made and the priest called for.

His niece was a corpse now, because he hadn't acted sooner.

Geoffrey was right. The baron was supposed to bargain for their stay in the viscount's lands, but without Charles or his family to vouch for them they would be doomed. If they were lucky they would be sentenced to a life as soldier-slaves, to spend the rest of their days fighting for the lord of the land. If unlucky, execution was the normal punishment for murder of nobles.

You deserve to die, for failing your family.

How were they supposed to survive this now? Their plan had been based on the fact that the baron, or his wife, would be forced to help them, but they hadn't accounted for the possibility on the baron dying. Even if they defeated the Wargs without a single causality, they would die without a nobleman to explain their situation. Robin of Blackbay, the only Man-at-arms of Blackbay and the only person whose name could take the place of the baron's was gone, out on a quest sent by the duke. They were as good as dead, regardless of the success of the plan.

"Ah don't know, lad. Let me think for a moment." He said, his mind a spinning vortex of confusion and guilt.

He should have done something sooner. Fight back before and let his family escape the freaks of the forest. Filthy monsters! Now the baron and his family were dead and they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, between monsters and savages.

This was a goddamn mess. The plan had been going so well. The villagers had decided to help, the lad had set the traps out to stall the beasts and he had finally gotten some kind of contact with his estranged niece again. Why did the one thing that was not allowed to happen able to occur right under his nose?

No, wait a bit. The baron wasn't dead yet. Lia and her son were dead, but the baron was still alive, dying but alive.

"Geoffrey, get the men! Tell the women and the old folk to get in the boats and go to sea. Tell them not to go too far, they need to see how the fight ends." Rowland said to the younger man. Geoffrey jumped at the barking order and stared at the older man who had for some reason been given a second wind.

"Sure, but how are we going to explain all of this to the viscount?"

"We're not, you bloody fool! The baron is! We've come too far to give up so Ah'm not going to let Charles bow out before he's played his part. The damn wanker is going to help us out, even if Ah have to kill him myself to make him do it." He said, his voice carrying more edge than it had in years. He was furious, more than furious. He was boiling with rage and he needed to use that rage now.

Charles was going on those boats, even if Rowland had to tie him up and throw him over his shoulder like a maiden from legends about to be ravaged by the hero.

If Charles was going to act like a wench then Rowland was going to damn well treat him like one.

**AOB**

Complete and utter chaos.

That was the sight that greeted Shirou when he found the den of the Wargs.

During his little walk in the forest, Shirou had made up a few theories about the Wargs in general. Why would they treat each other like the way Scarface had treated Papa Wolf? Why would Puppy eat its meal in such a disgusting way? Why were they still here after fifteen years of life in brittania? He had wondered why they were such abominations that even Gaia would probably be horrified at their behaviour. Gaia was the collective conscious of all living things on earth, barring humans so why let a species that was clearly harmful for the environment live without trying to kill it like Gaia tried to kill humans?

He had not seen a single shred of evidence that Gaia was dealing with the beasts so in other words, Wargs were under control. How can something so cruel and evil be under control? What kind of safety measure did Gaia have that made it safe to let the monsters called Wargs roam free, when humans were considered a danger? If one was not careful then the Wargs would overtake the earth and devour all living things, leaving nothing behind.

Shirou did not think he was a person who was easily offended, but even he had limits. Gaia had created monsters to cull humanity because it considered humans a hostile existence and yet it did not make a move to exterminate the Wargs. Where was the fairness in that? Wargs had not only evil intent, but they also had intelligence. It was a primitive intelligence, but it was there. Humans had no inherent evil in them and they were growing gradually better at taking care of their environment. In the future they would learn how to recycle and take care of nature. How could Gaia see humans as enemies and yet allow these filthy monsters to exist?

Was this bullying? Was Gaia, the will of planet, bullying humanity? He didn't want to think of it like that, but he couldn't think of any other reason. Was Gaia deliberately overlooking the damage the Wargs were making on nature in favour of focusing on the damage done on the humans? How unfair! He felt like he was back in first grade and the popular kids were sending their followers to pick on the nerds of the class.

Gaia, the world's oldest bully.

But Gaia was not the only one allowing them to exist. Alaya was the protector of humanity, the collective will of humans everywhere, surely she would have made a move to eradicate the vermin that was leeching off of the human race.

And yet she hadn't.

She had fifteen years to protect the humans living in Blackbay village and there had been no sign of any counter force-empowered human coming to save the lives of Rowland and the others. Where was the Counter Guardian responsible for hunting down the Wargs? Even if the entire continent carried colonies of Wargs, a single counter guardian should have the power necessary to slay them and travel to Blackbay. But the guardian had never arrived. Alaya didn't think the Wargs were a threat to the human race for some reason.

That was a reason Shirou thought was just plain dumb. Even if they weren't powerful beasts like werewolves, they still posed a threat to humanity as a whole since they preyed on humans more than wildlife. They didn't hunt to eat, they hunted to kill. Alaya shouldn't allow such potential threats to survive, if only to remove future threats from the offspring.

However he hadn't accounted for one possibility until now.

He had already wondered why the wolves could grow to such immense sizes despite the obvious lack of wildlife to sustain large populations of large predators. They were a paradox in the ecosystem, something that should devour everything in the area then move on to a different location to repeat the procedure, like locusts only larger and more dangerous to human beings. The paradox was the fact that they didn't move on, they stayed in the same location for years only taking small parts of the natural wildlife. There wasn't a single species in the area that had gone extinct in the last couple of years according to Rowland, and while the tavern owner wasn't the most accurate source of information he could be trusted to know the state of his own village.

So if neither the wildlife nor the village was being slaughtered for their prana and meat, what was being eaten in order to sustain the Warg's impossible size?

The answer, Shirou had discovered upon reaching the den, were the Wargs themselves.

Even now as he watched a black Warg crush the skull of one of Papa Wolf's cubs with his powerful jaws, he realized that he had pondered over the wrong things concerning the phantasmal beasts. Their diet was not made up from meat only; it was first and foremost comprised of prana with meat being a conduit that carried prana. All phantasmal beasts could harness Mana to some degree and the Wargs literally fed off the stuff. The prana they gained from eating the od from living beings was something they added to their regular diet.

So what is the result when the Mana in the area was being drained too much from the growing population of Wargs?

Cannibalism was the result.

When Scarface had ripped Papa Wolf apart, he hadn't eaten much meat at all. He had been eating the prana stored inside his body. When it was just two Wargs being eaten by a few others the exchange of prana had been too small to notice, all Shirou had been able to sense was that Scarface was growing stronger from eating. But now as he watched a dozen black Wargs that looked like Scarface attack a smaller group of brown Wargs that looked similar to Papa Wolf, even a third rate magus such as he could sense the prana that was permeating in the air. Each time a brown Warg fell and the black Warg started eating the air became filled with prana that smelled like blood and dirt.

The entire den was one big pit which was only accessible by a slope. The bottom of the pit was filled with skeletons, human and animal bones being scattered all over the place. The rock wall had small caverns all along its side and the Wargs that had succeeded in taking down an opponent would drag its meal into the holes that barely fit them. The entire location was desolate and sterile to the point that the ground didn't even grow grass or weeds. The Mana that had been the food source for the phantasmal species had been absorbed to the point that the flora was unable to thrive. It felt less like a natural location and more like a cemetery.

Although he did wonder why this was happening now. The Scarface-faction was obviously attacking the Papa Wolf-faction, but was this because of Shirou? Were they attacking each other because Shirou had killed Papa Wolf? Had the brown Wargs been the alpha male pf the pack and Scarface the second-in-command? If that was the case then Scarface might be trying to eradicate Papa Wolf's bloodline in order to ensure his own offspring is more successful.

Whatever the case, it worked in Shirou's favour. The previous count had been somewhere around thirty, but Shirou couldn't see more than fifteen living Wargs left. The last attack on the brown Wargs had killed most the offspring of Papa Wolf, but the black faction had been reduced. He had planned for an attack of thirty enemies, but only fifteen remained. Only four brown Wargs were alive and they were surrounded by their black relatives.

He started setting out the traps while they were distracted and while the previous ones had been smoked to remove the trace of human scents, these ones had been covered in clothes to link them to the village. He activated them before he placed them on the path the Wargs had used. When the Wargs tried to attack the village they would lose a limb or two hopefully in the process.

He was about to leave once more when he saw it.

"Trace on."

The pitch black longbow materialized in his hands, black dust forming into a single solid form. He drew a reinforced arrow with wind runes carved along its shaft and aimed at the aforementioned target.

Scarface was sitting in the corner of the pit, holding a brown Warg not even half his size by the throat in his jaws. He looked almost exactly the same as he had just a few minutes earlier, the same facial scars, the same short snout and green eyes. The only difference was the size of his body.

He was much larger now. In fact, he was larger than Papa Wolf. His body had almost doubled in size and he was slowly eating the smaller Warg. The large canine looked almost like a doll in its much larger cousin's claws. Having been two meters just a few minutes ago, he now stood at a frightening three and a half meters. The puppy he was holding was only a meter at most so the difference in stature was daunting, but it wasn't just the physical difference that was different. Unlike the frantic mauling he had unleashed on Papa Wolf's carcass, he was now using a much calmer and controlled way of feeding. He didn't throw the bones and skin away to get at the more tender organs, instead opting to swallow each piece of meat he could get his teeth around. Had Papa Wolf's own stores of prana really enabled the Warg to grow to such outrageous proportions?

He drew the string back and aimed. Was he going to take the shot? Scarface was the largest of the Wargs at the moment and if he attacked the village Shirou was not sure he could kill him before he reached the village. He had killed Papa Wolf out of luck and he wouldn't be able to take out an even larger Warg the same way. The best course of action would be to take him out in a surprise attack. To strike him from a distance and kill him before he had the chance to dodge. This would be the best opportunity for such a tactic. Scarface was relaxing in his den, he was confident not a single enemy was capable of killing him and his guard was down. Even the other Wargs wouldn't dare touch him out of fear of their new alpha male's wrath. There wouldn't be a better chance to take him out than this.

But if he did shoot it he would have to fight the Wargs in their own territory, alone and tired from the hike. He was severely outmatched in numbers and firepower and the way the leader had grown in size it wouldn't be stranger if the rest of the Wargs could do the same if the leader was killed. They would take the prana from his corpse and grow to even larger sizes, sizes Shirou wouldn't be able to fight against. He could use his Mystic Codes to hurt enemies larger than him, but even with wind runes carved onto his swords and arrows he could still only do so much. Overclocking them increased their deadliness, but if he killed Scarface now and the next alpha was the size of a mountain then his little blades wouldn't do so much.

What would he do? He didn't want to face Scarface on the battlefield, but he didn't want the next alpha to be even larger.

He stayed there for a minute or so, considering the possibilities and the consequences of his actions. The sound originating from the pit echoes in the clearing he was in, telling the forest of the losing battle the brown faction was fighting. Barking, whining and snarling emanated from that deep pit, speeding Shirou in his thoughts, telling him what was happening. His knee was getting wet form the dirt it was standing on and he knew most of it was blood from the current battle.

If Scarface died then the next alpha would be larger and more deadly. If he left then the current alpha would still be even deadlier than Papa Wolf, an opponent Shirou was barely able to defeat even with luck on his side.

Plan A: Kill the Current Alpha.

Plan B: Fight the current Alpha near the village in its prime.

Plan C: …?

Shirou's eyes widened as he realized the third option. Would it be possible? Scarface would be too busy with the current war between factions to notice him and he could reinforce his limbs to run. The Wargs may be faster, but they were fighting right now and his traps would stall them enough for him to escape. He looked down at the remaining brown Wargs. The last two were an odd pair, both large and most likely strong enough to rip him apart, but they were nothing against Scarface. One was a golden brown while the other was a deep auburn. They were surrounded by black Wargs who were snapping at their heels, trying to cause massive bleeding in their hind legs and bleed them out. They wouldn't last long and he needed to act now if he wanted to go the third option.

He drew the string back completely and filled the mystic code with prana, filling it to the bursting point, a technique Kiritsugu forced him to learn. He aimed it at Scarface and let it fly.

The projectile had runes carved into it, but the tip had several others as well. Some runes could impart kinetic force when activated, but it was a tricky thing to learn. The object would have to absorb the force needed to impart it first something which could take time and was useless in a fight. However when the object in question is flying through the air in the shape of an arrow then the force needed to hurt the opponent was absorbed in the first few meters. The rest was simply overkill.

Well, Kiritsugu had said there was never anything called overkill. In the end, all that mattered was if the enemy was dead and you were alive.

The arrow was not meant to kill Scarface. If he died then the attack on the village would be led by a behemoth Shirou might not be able to kill. The arrow was meant to cripple him to the point that Shirou would be able to kill him early on in the attack. Papa wolf had lost most of his power after his arms were taken out of commission so the same theory would apply to Scarface.

The kinetic arrow impacted on Scarface's right arm and the result was immediate. It had noticed the arrow in the last second of it flight, but it had been too late in dodging it. The entire shoulder was blown off in a shower of blood, akin to that of when Shirou had shot Puppy. The useless limb spun around in the air a few times before landing with a loud thud, crimson liquid dripping from the wound. Scarface let out a loud scream as the pain of the loss of his arm reached his brain. He gripped the bloody shoulder with his remaining clawed hand and sank to his knees in an eerily human manner. He started snarling at the direction the arrow had come from, but Shirou had already moved to hide behind a rock.

The black Wargs had stopped their extermination of the brown Wargs and were staring at their alpha. When they understood what had happened they started whining as they tried to make themselves understood. Scarface needed prana to heal it seemed and they didn't want to provide it. The brown Wargs would be the perfect source of prana… if they hadn't used the moment of surprise to break through the ring of black Wargs and escape up the slope.

Shirou thought the brown wolves had come up with a great idea and had started running himself. His reinforced limbs were far faster than any average human and he was practically flying through the dark and dense forest. The falchion with runes on it that had sliced off Papa Wolf's arm was secured on his back and he was hoping any attacks from behind would be stopped by the mystic code.

He had done his part of the plan. He was hoping Rowland had succeeded on his part.

**AOB**

The Baron's home was a slightly larger house than the rest of the village. It was about the same size as the tavern and the church and it was in much better condition than the other two. Most of the village's meagre income went straight to the baron's coffers and he could therefore afford the wood from the neighbouring land. While the Blackbay and the other two villages under Charles control were slowly falling into oblivion, Charles spent most of his days in relative luxury to the pint that he didn't much care of the issue with the Wargs. Even now with the Saxon invasion it was obvious the baron was not overly concerned with the dangers posed to the lives under his protection. His stables were almost filled with horses of varying sizes and the carriage was in relatively good condition.

Rowland had seen larger and more elaborate buildings in his travels as a merchant though so he wasn't too impressed as he walked through the house his niece had been killed in just hours earlier. The house as a whole was not damaged too badly, the only room ruined had been the nursery which the Warg had broken into through the window and thrashed. When the plan was over and the Wargs had been killed they could repair it and it would be like the attack had never occurred.

He was going to burn the place to the ground before he let that happen.

The door to the master bedroom was carved with patterns and pictures, probably depicting some old legend, but Rowland didn't care about it. He opened the door without knocking, scaring the maid sitting by the bed and feeding the baron some kind of soup. Chicken, judging from the smell of it. Charles swore as the hot soup spilled from the bowl and onto his skin.

"Damn it, what the hell do you want Rowland? At this hour too?!" He said angrily, but lacking the energy he usually possessed. The man was rather pale too, just a few shades from looking like a corpse.

"You need to get up, Charles. We're moving and you need to be with us when we're talking to the baron of Rye. He'll think we're deserters if we don't have a nobleman with us to explain things for us." He said as he took out a thick coat from the chest at the end of the bed and threw it at the baron.

"Excuse me?" Charles eyes narrowed. "What the bloody hell are you talking about, Rowland? We're not moving the village until we've received the word from the viscount. If the viscount heard that the village is stopping its fishing ahead of time then he will lose the cut he receives from the taxes. If that happens he'll send the army to…" Rowland stopped him in his explanation by throwing another coat in his face.

"Ah don't care, we're leaving. Ah'll explain when we get there, but get dressed or Ah'll drag you out to the boats in your sleeping gown." He said as he put a bunch of different clothes in the arms of the maid who looked like she was going to buckle under the combined weight.

"You'll explain now while I'm in bed eating my food, you oaf! And why the hell are you cleaning out my wardrobes?!" he said as he pointed at the tavern owner who was once more picking out coats and thick sweaters.

"The villagers need winter clothing, especially now since we're going by sea. Most of our own clothes are full of holes and tears so Ah figured you could lend us a helping hand now that we're going traveling together. You don't mind, do you?" The former merchant explained as he picked out a rather extravagant traveling cloak and wrapped himself in it. The rough and grey clothes he wore underneath clashed with the red and gold of the cloak, but he didn't seem to care and as he looked himself in the mirror.

"I do mind, you blathering baboon, those are the robes of my ancestors! Passed down through the generations since the founding of Brittania and not meant to be worn by a failed merchant! Now take it off before I called the guards!" Baron Distray threatened as he weakly raised an accusing finger. Rowland scoffed.

"And who will wear them now that your son and wife are dead? Look at you, you're half-dead already! The way you're acting the Distray line will be over by the end of the week. Then what will happen to you precious clothing? They'll be used as kindle by some dumb Saxon who doesn't know the difference between robe and a rug. You think they'll care about whether or not some minor noble used to wear these clothes?" He fumbled with the pin holding the cloak in place before throwing the piece of bronze away and tying the ends together in a simple knot.

Charles was boiling with rage by this point, but the colour of his face didn't change from the pale shade of grey it had been just a few minutes before. The sickly skin looked like someone had carved a wax doll of the man and dropped it in his bed as some joke, but Rowland knew Charles was a stubborn fool, stubborn enough not to keel over before he drove the intruder out of his home.

"Why are you here, Rowland? Is it not bad enough that my son and wife lost their lives tonight? Must you come here and insult me further? I'm an old man now and Lia was my last hope of having an heir. Can't you let me get some rest before I have to force some poor fool to answer the Duke's call-to-arms? I'm probably going to die before the Saxons come here anyway!" The furious baron yelled at the offender who was still trying one more outfits. Rowland stopped his digging in the wardrobe of the baron and looked at him. The tavern owner was also tired and he knew the fear Charles was feeling. The fear of death. Even as he was preparing for the attack of the Wargs he felt the hairs on his neck stand at attention in fear. Every time he walked out the door he had to stop and gather his courage to open the door, the fear of seeing a Warg standing on the other side of the door making him hesitate, making him falter.

"Ah'm here because you don't need to die because of this, Charles. Have you been listening to what the lads have been talking about while standing guard? The lad that came her a few days ago, the boy with hair as red as blood, he's a bloody wizard!" He said, waving his arms to make the baron listen to him. It worked. Just like with the villagers, the mentioning of magic made the baron release a small gasp and his eyes widened in shock. Maybe he had heard about the boy's weird powers or maybe he had not, the fact remained that if a man as stubborn as Rowland believed in the boy being a wizard the chances of him actually being one were pretty high. The baron's breathing became laboured as he held his chest in pain.

"Are you sure of this, Rowland? Can he use magic?" he spoke with forced words. The pain in his chest was probably taking a toll on him. Judging by the way he was continuing the conversation probably meant he was somewhat used to the pain by now and thought it wasn't very dangerous.

"Aye, Ah've seen him use magic to create weapons and fire and traps that Ah've never seen before in my life. He held fire in his hands and he recovered from wounds that would have taken other weeks in just days. He's a goddamn wizard!" He said with amazement in his voice. The Rowland had never seen anything like it and he had seen plenty of magicians in his travels. Most of them were simple entertainers, but the lad was different. A true wizard that used magic like it was nothing.

But Charles hesitated.

"How do we know he's here to help us? He could be a Saxon spy or some evil sorcerer for that matter. He could be doing this to destroy the village before the Saxons come here to help them get a base without fighting at all." The baron said sceptically.

Rowland sighed at the man's tone. He was going to need more convincing than the villagers apparently. The villagers were going to die without Shirou's help, but Charles could leave whenever he wanted to. The commoners had nothing to lose by helping Shirou, but Charles did. Except…

"Without the lad then we're all dead. We can't leave without being attacked by the Wargs. You can't leave by yourself anymore since your sickly body would die from traveling alone. If we stay we die from the invasion. You need to help us with this, Charles. If you stay here then you die, but if you survive then you can ask the lad for some kind of potion or something to get your health back. Hell, you might be able to get another heir if you get another wife before you croak."

He felt a knife plunge into his heart as he suggested Charles get another woman to marry. The fact that he was suggesting the baron to forget about his niece so soon was almost too much to bear. Charles had never loved Lia; she had only been a womb to carry his heir. It didn't change the fact that Lia had been infatuated with the baron, a man Rowland had once called friend. It was the only reason he had been allowed to act the way he had until now, despite the fact that Charles now hated his guts with a passion. The failure from thirty years ago was still fresh in their minds and only their long friendship had stopped them from killing the other party in rage.

_Your cowardice led your family to their deaths_

Charles stopped glaring at Rowland seemed to ponder the suggestion for a bit. He chewed his lip and his eyes flickered between Rowland and the bell that called for the guards. After a while he only looked at Rowland.

"You think the boy can kill the Wargs and cure me from this disease eating away at my body?" he asked cautiously.

Rowland didn't reply immediately. He didn't know if the boy could cure him. All he had seen the lad do was create weapons and fire. The boy could heal his own body unnervingly fast so he should be able to heal others as well.

"Ah don't know actually. Ah've never seen him heal other before so Ah couldn't say. But it doesn't change the fact that all of us are going to die if we don't do something and the lad is our best chance to do it. How many wizards do you know that can fight, Charles?" Not giving the baron a chance to respond he continued. "None? That's what Ah thought. The brat might not be the army we hoped the duke would send us fifteen years ago, but he's something at least. At least give the boy a chance to save us before we all die."

Charles coughed a few times and rubbed his chest, the ache probably giving him difficulty sleeping if the dark bags under his eyes were any indication. "If I did agree to this, what would I have to do?"

Rowland smiled at the slightly older man. "Well, you don't have to do much at all. While half of the village will be staying here to defend against the Wargs and to kill as many of them as possible, the other half will be out at sea to observe the battle from afar. If we lose then they will go to Rye and negotiate with the baron and explain the situation to the viscount. If we win then they'll come back to the village and we'll start to rebuild again, only this time we can take the timber form the forest and we won't have to bargain for the timber of Rye. You will be in the boat since you don't look so good."

Charles nodded his head and swallowed the saliva in his mouth. Instead of giving Rowland his answer he turned to the maid. "Gather the winter coats from the hidden closet and get the bread and cheese from the kitchens. And call the healer and tell him he'll be the one to carry me to the boats. I'm not in any condition to walk to the pier." With that he picked up the bowl of soup and started feeding himself, the sick baron shaking as he tried not to let the soup spill from the spoon. The maid, Esther something, gave a quick "Yes, Mi'lord!" and left with the large pile of clothes in her arms. He was actually quite surprised when she didn't buckle under the weight of it all. The lass had a good spine if nothing else.

The fact that the stubborn baron had agreed to their plan was an enormous victory on Rowland's part, but he didn't really feel the joy he should have been feeling. In all honesty, he didn't want Charles to go on the boats. He wanted the bastard to stay here with them and get killed by the Wargs. The man had spent years hiding form the Wargs and refusing to take responsibility for his failure. He had shrugged off his duty to protect the people under his protection and had instead buried his head under the sand like the coward he was. The only reason he was helping them was because there was a slight chance the lad could save him, if the lad had not been able to use magic that might help the baron then Charles would probably have tried to drag the entire village down with him. He hadn't even said one word of sorrow about his own damn wife. Selfish bastards like him should just stay and die the pathetic death he deserves.

"When are the boats leaving the harbour, Rowland? As much as I despise the fact that I was left out of the loop for this little plan of yours, I would not want to be late and miss the only chance I have at seeing the end of those little pests ravaging my lands nor would I want to be here when they arrive." Charles asked, bringing Rowland out of his thoughts. He had to scratch his head in order to gather his composure.

"At dawn in a few hours. The sea will be warmer than the land will be so we won't have to worry about freezing to death if we use the coats you have, but we won't be able to sail past the rocks unless we have the sunlight for it. The lad left yesterday and he would lead the Wargs to attack sometime after dawn so we'll have to leave when the sun starts to appear. You sure you can handle that?" Even now he was hoping the man would have to stay in the village by missing the boats, to feel the same fear Lia felt when she was protecting her child. He knew he couldn't however, the fate of the villagers rested on this man's shoulders. Well, mostly on the lad's, but they would need his help of course. He wouldn't let his own pride and vengeance get in the way of the wellbeing of Blackbay village.

"Good, that will leave me plenty of time to get ready. How much room do you have on the boats? I'll need to make room for my coffers too." Charles said while slurping up the chicken soup with his shaky hands.

Was he serious? The boats were full to the brim; they could only make room for the baron and his servants if they pressed together and stood up while getting rid of useless things like tools and keepsakes. There wouldn't be any place for coffers of silver and gold. Whatever shillings and pounds he had he would have to leave them in the village.

"We don't have any room for stuff like that. The boats are already full as it is with the women and the old folk." He said.

The baron looked at him with confusion in his features. "Then what am I supposed to do with my wealth? I can't leave my money here, can I?"

"You're going to have to leave it here, Charles. They're fishing boats for daily trips, not warships that can carry dozens of soldiers. The fact that we can squeeze so many of the villagers into just three of them are a blessing, trying to ask for more will only bring death. If we survive the attack then you can go back to your house and take it back, but for now it's staying here." Rowland said determinately.

"I can't leave all the wealth I've spent my life collecting in a village about to be run over by monsters! Think of what will happen if we get back one day and it's gone. My name will be ruined and my status as a noble will be non-existent. If I don't have that money to pay the viscount's taxes then he'll have me executed and name removed from the books of nobility!" Charles exclaimed loudly, though the effect was lessened by the fact that he started wheezing towards the end of it.

"Your name is worth less than your life and if you try to bring your coffers of gold and silver on the boats then the ship will sink before you leave the harbour. Besides what do you think will happen? What would the Wargs want with gold in some house they've been in once? Or is it bandits you're worried about? Bandits who try to stay in the forest and get eaten by the Wargs at night? Your wealth is safe in Blackbay at the moment, but you aren't so for now, leave it here." Rowland responded.

He had forgotten how stubborn Charles really was. Even at death's door the man would let his own wellbeing go before the lives of countless other unless it benefited him in some way. Though that probably spoke more about his greed and cowardice than his stubbornness, but the point remained the same. The man was an idiot and a selfish one at that. How he ever managed to succeed the seat of baron from his father was a mystery to Rowland.

It looked like the baron wanted to argue, but a coughing fit stopped him. Seeing how he was not going to win an argument with Rowland concerning his own wealth over the lives of the village, the older man surrendered with a wave of his hand.

"Fine, I'll leave my fortune here, but if a single penny is missing I'm taking it out on the tavern's income. Got it?" he tried to put emphasis on the threat by pointing his finger in Rowland's direction, but once more the threat was reduced because of the weakness the man was showing by wheezing and coughing.

"Fine, you do that you bloody wanker. Just get your pale arse to the boats before we leave or you'll die anyway. We're not going to wait for you if you're late." The large tavern owner said and left.

The baron went back to his lukewarm soup, not realizing Rowland had left with his best robe until the man was out of his house and back in the village.

**AOB**

Shirou knew his limits.

As a child he was always trying to find new limits and reach new heights and he had gotten his fair share of scars as a result. Trying to fire several arrows at the same time had earned him a broken wrist and a severed finger. Reinforcing his wrist while broken had earned him a broken arm and a rant from Kiritsugu. Trying to spar with Fuji-nee while letting her wield Torashinai had given him nightmares for weeks and a sore and bruised body.

Sparring with Kiritsugu in unarmed combat without reinforcing his body had landed him in bed for an entire day and a couple of broken ribs. Say what you want about the old man, the geezer had a mean hook and the knowledge to make it hurt.

So Shirou was certain he knew his limits quite well. He knew how fast he could run while using reinforcement and he knew how much he could reinforce his body before feeling the pain of it. He knew how much prana he had available, counting the od from both his crest and his own magic circuits. He knew the physical condition of his body due to the extensive use of structural analysis.

Shirou knew the state of both his body and his magecraft extremely well and the result when the two mingled.

So how was it possible he had exceeded those limits already?

He had used reinforcement on his entire body for a while now in order to run at maximum speed. He was at full capacity in terms of physical condition and he was using his reinforced eyes to find the best route to the village and to avoid the traps he had laid all over the paths.

He knew he was **not** supposed be at the dead wolf yet. It had taken him hours to reach that point on the way to the den and even longer to reach it from there. It should have taken him an additional two hours to make it this far under normal circumstances. Even if you said he was just backtracking his own steps then it would not have enabled him to save two hours. Maybe half an hour at most, but two hours was just pushing it.

And yet the dead behemoth was in front of him, hidden by the runes he himself carved.

"The hell is going on?" He said out loud. He had not seen or heard any sign of the Wargs so he assumed they had not followed him immediately after he attacked. They had probably gathered around Scarface, trying to help but keeping their distance from his wrath at the same time. Hopefully Scarface would take out a few of them in rage before he followed Shirou's trail.

"I wonder what happened to the brown ones." They had slipped away in the confusion caused by his sneak attack. They were smart, smart enough to instantly take advantage of an opening and escape. They had made a beeline for the slope and entered the thick forest for cover. He had taken off in the opposite direction, instead heading straight towards the village. The traps had been set and they were covered in human scents, scents that would lead them straight for the village. The brown ones may have survived the extermination the black ones were causing, but they would distract the majority of Wargs for the time being. Even if they left for another forest they would not survive for long. Shirou might not be the best tracker alive, but he knew enough magecraft to bridge the gap. If they started hunting humans again he would know and he could take them out.

Though it wouldn't matter if he didn't survive the attack. Most Wargs attacked at night, but they could attack during the day as well. This provocation would make them attack in broad daylight, giving them no place to hide and lessening the advantage the beasts had over humans somewhat.

That was if the plan had gone as intended. The biggest flaw in the plan was the village itself. Had the villagers helped Rowland in creating fortifications? Had they decided to help in the defence of the village? Would they actually try to stop him from entering the village? A lot of things could go wrong and Shirou would be powerless to stop them. The worst case scenario was that the villagers refused to help and banished him from the village, making him fight a pack of phantasmal beasts that surpassed him on every front on an open field with nothing, but traps created as mystic codes to help him. That was not something he was looking forward to if Rowland had failed.

Even so, he wouldn't really feel any anger towards them if that was the case. He might have been trying to help them, but it didn't change the fact that he had gone through with the plan without their consent. While time was short and drastic times demanded drastic measures, he still thought it was unfair of him to do it. Kiritsugu had said the ends justified the means, but it didn't change the despicable feeling in his gut at the moment.

Should he have gone to ask for their opinion first? Wasn't it important that they agree to the plan before the plan is already in motion? He felt twisted, torn between saving the village by ignoring their own free will and letting them choose and risking their lives. Rowland had said they could leave by boat, but what if the boats weren't enough or one of the boats broke under the strain of carrying too many people? There was also the fact that something wasn't quite right in what Rowland had told him. It felt a little too good to be true for three boats could carry fifty people. Even if it was just barely, fifty divided by three was still a large number for old medieval fishing vessels. They didn't qualify to be called ships, their size being too small for it, and yet they would be able to carry the entire village of Blackbay if they didn't want to stay and fight? It seemed fishy, but Rowland wouldn't lie to him, would he?

Would he?

Regardless, he needed to focus on the task at hand. He had a few hours left until he got to the village if he continued at this pace, but if his new increase in speed was permanent then maybe it would be less than that. He didn't find any unknown prana signatures in the air so that meant he was relatively safe, at least until the Wargs found the trail of traps he had laid out and even then they would be slowed down by the injuries sustained. They might be an hour behind him at best so he might have time for some extra precautions.

He took the handle of the falchion behind his back. The angle and the length of the blade made it awkward to take it out, so unlike the animes and movies he had seen as a child where dozens of heroes carried their swords on their backs. The sad fact was that swords were meant to be carried by the hip, not on the back. The angles made it impractical in battle and on a battlefield practicality meant the difference between life and death. Even if the falchion was a short sword compared to other he had seen in his life, he was still a child and the size was too much for him to use it effectively without reinforcement.

He had already carved runes into the blade, wind and earth runes to increase velocity and sturdiness. With his limited knowledge of magecraft, this was the limit of his current abilities. His crest made it possible to use stronger spells, but his lack of experience made that a pipedream at best. What he needed right now was not a stronger blade, but more blades.

Creating a blade from his memory was easy, but the task was made significantly easier if he had a picture in front of him. Inspecting the blade and the runes engraved of the steel, he focused on the image in his head. Steel created in a factory, sent to a blacksmith dedicated to preserving the ways of the old forges. Runes carved in the workshop of a Japanese magus called "The Magus Killer" and practiced with in the home of the same person. Before he knew it, ten blades were hovering in the air in front of his before they lost their aerial abilities and fell to the ground. The impacts on the ground and with the other fake blades created a series of clanking noises that echoed in the large forest. He had to bite back a curse as he tried to stop the swords from alerting his pursuers of his current location.

He had to think of a way to stop the blades from falling on the ground as soon as they appeared.

The swords on the ground were the same as the one in his hands, but with a few differences. They carried the same design, but were noticeably flawed. The steel was not as perfectly forged and the runes looked more scratched on rather than carefully carved. The weights of all the replicas were also different from the well-balanced blade in Shirou's hands. Shirou had used more prana when he had traced the `Original´ compared to the replicas so the results were lacklustre compared to it, but they served their purposes well enough. They weren't meant to be used in battle by a human after all so they didn't need the design for it. All he needed was the design and the fact that he didn't need to spend as much prana on a new blade. Copying one he already had was cheaper.

"Trace on." he said, activating his magic crest on his chest. The crest located over his ribcage gave of a red glow and he used one of the spells his ancestors had donated to the crest, in this case a trapping spell.

The mechanics behind the spell were simple. Bury the dangerous parts of the trap, the blades, and use a wire to activate the trap. The trap was attached to the mind of the user like a familiar and would let the owner know when the trap was activated. It was an effective trap, if the victim didn't know magecraft. Any magus worth his salt could detect such a primitive trap and even normal humans could notice the wires used. If the opponent knew even a little bit of magecraft then the trap was almost guaranteed to fail.

That was why it was such a good trap against Wargs. They were beasts, pure and simple. Any brain they possessed was overshadowed by brawn. Scarface was the new alpha now and his thoughts would be clouded with fury. No living being, human or phantasmal beast, would let the ones who took their arm walk away without revenge. They would be running after him, blinded by rage and foaming at the mouth. The human who had dared take his arm was from Blackbay village, the village they had been feeding on for years! Scarface wouldn't let such an insult go, not after having become the alpha of the pack. He'd find the offender and go for the kill.

That would lead him to the village, injured and mad with rage, only he would be stopped time and time again as the traps Shirou had laid out for him would slow him down.

He covered the trap in a light blanket of leaves and took off running again. He could feel his muscles straining as the prana flowed into them. A single step propelled him into the air until it looked like he was hovering instead of running, a whirlwind of leaves following his path.

He frowned. There was something strange about his circuits now that he focused on them. They didn't… ache as much as they were supposed to do when he used magecraft. Instead of the heat released when using them, he felt just a bit fuzzy inside. Nowhere near the same amount of pain as he normally felt, it was strangely comforting.

It made him feel awesome.

He didn't stop to think about it though, for obvious reasons. He might feel like a millions bucks, but it didn't change the fact that fighting phantasmal beasts on their territory alone was an incredibly stupid idea, one Kiritsugu had told him any human would find laughable at best. He did find the fact that he had actually wanted to do that as a _younger_ child a bit laughable until he remembered the way Kiritsugu had literally beat that idea out of his head during their daily spar. Never again did he mention his desire to test out his magecraft in front Kiritsugu.

He focused on running and the clearing he had left the trap in was quiet, only the leaves falling disturbing the silence.

**AOB**

"Alright lads, hurry up! We have to get the boats in the water before the Wargs get back. The moment the sun rises we're getting the bloody hell outta here!" Rowland yelled by the docks. The thirty men or so gave an affirmative roar in response and heaved the fishing boat into the cold water, spraying icy droplets of sea into the faces of everyone gathered.

Though the word dock might be an overstatement in its current condition, the docks of Blackbay were once filled to the brim with merchant vessels fighting for the best places to unload their cargo. It had been the village's greatest asset, being the kingdom's closest harbour to the mainland that avoided the territories of the kraken and the sea snake. Of course that had been the reason for their downfall since that meant the Saxons had chosen Blackbay as their first goal for the same reason. The first attack had scorched the docks and most of the village before they had moved on, only for the second wave to Now they had to use the boats to escape the Wargs, but at most only half the village would be able to leave. The rest would have to stay behind to fight, whether by their own choice or by force, it was up to them, but the women and old people would fill the boats first. Any man capable of holding an axe or pitchfork would have to wait and hope there would be some seats left.

"I'm here, Rowland. Tell me which boat I'm going in and hurry up, the healer is almost as weak as I am and looks about to faint." An obnoxious voice said behind him. Rowland turned around and saw the baron of Hastings, Lord Charles Distray, walking down the dock.

Well, walking would have been a strong word. The man was leaning on the shoulder of a smaller man, the town healer, and both of them looked exhausted from the effort. The baron looked like he was about to keel over, his wheezing breaths and waxy skin giving him the appearance of a walking corpse. The healer, though not looking like he was dying from overexertion, was not a muscular man as he spent most of his days tending to wounded so the effort of having to carry a man larger than himself was clearly taking its toll on the man's poor physique.

As a result, both men were half-walking, half-hobbling over the uneven surface of the wooden dock. Charles was visibly frustrated over the inability of the healer to carry him properly so the tone of his voice carried more venom than it usually did, though it might also be the fact that the man had resigned himself to spending hours on end with the commoners on a boat with no privacy to speak of. Charles was always a spoiled brat, no matter what age the man reached.

"Yeah, you get to go in Brunhilde over there, the ship with the two fishes on the sails. You'll sit on the port side of the ship, or the left side if you didn't know what that meant." He said as he simultaneously threw crates filled with food and clothing onto a different ship, Njord, only for Geoffrey to catch the wooden container.

"I know what Port side means, you inane buffoon! The thing I'm wondering is how you'll expect me to survive the night. It's freezing out here and you want to me to stay with the village out at sea, with the wind and water chilling us to the bone?" The sick man complained, his voice grating Rowland's ears with its never-ending whining. It took all of Rowland's self-control not to abandon his task and slam his fist into the nobleman's jaw. It would have been such an easy thing to do, to simply put down the blankets he was holding and punch the baron right in his face, breaking the nose and knocking him out at the same time.

But then Charles might go back on his word and betray them when they get back to land. They needed his support even if the lad wins in Blackbay. If they have to go to Rye and the baron backstabs them they would die so it would be in their best interests not to aggravate the self-entitled prat.

"It will be alright as long as we get out to sea. The sea is nowhere near as cold as in the village, don't ask me why. There might be a curse or something, but the sea is warmer than the land and as long as we have the coats you gave us then we'll be fine." He said with exasperation hidden in his voice. If the baron noticed it then he didn't seem to care, but he continued with his irritated tirade.

"Yes, but you don't expect me to cuddle up with these people, do you? I'm a baron, not some fisherman! Tell them not to get to close to me or I'll have them flogged." The increasingly irritated man said as he had his helper carry him towards the boat.

"You don't have a choice, Charles!" Rowland yelled after him. "There's not enough room for all of you so you have to cuddle up. Play nice or Ah'll have you flogged!" Then in a quieter voice, only loud enough for the fishermen next to him to hear, he added. "You dying little shite!" it brought a few chuckled from the men who heard him.

He threw the blankets to Geoffrey and was about to take another load when he someone shout out his name. He turned around, thinking Charles had been unhappy about his placement on the fishing vessel and had come back to complain, but was surprised when it was not the baron who was running towards him.

"I'm back!"

The lad had returned it seemed.


End file.
